The Lightkeeper
by UConn Fan
Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles?
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Lightkeeper  
  
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)  
  
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com  
  
Story Summary: "Sometimes our light goes out but is blown into flame by another human being. Each of us owes deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this light." - Albert Schweitzer   
  
- My attempt at a getting V&S together post-SD-6 fanfic. Oh, & I took some of my TN/CTT characters for the heck of it!   
  
A/N: You guys are so going to hate me for this . . . I've got a lot of nerve starting a new (probably multi-chaptered) story before I even come close to finishing Trying Normal . . . hehe, too bad! I'm evil, my life has sucked the past week, so deal with it! :) (not trying to be mean, you all know I love you lots and lots!)  
  
I owe everyone lots of e-mail; I'm working on that, promise, but Meg was in the hospital last week & UConn has lost THREE TIMES NOW (my poor Mike; he's so damn cute, only I would have a crush on a guy who NEVER plays) so I've been busy with that.  
  
I want to know everything that you guys think; please R&R! Whenever I get a review, I let out a little scream (seriously, just like I do when something good happens on Alias; ask Meg!) so it's awesome for me and even better for my (at times) fragile ego.  
  
This is very much inspired by Rhonda's "The Invitation". If you have not read that, STOP HERE - GO READ IT! it is the BEST fanfic I have read in ages, arguably the best S/V fanfic I have ever encountered. If she's reading this - even if she hates it - a response would make me SOO happy!  
  
This is my first attempt at including some I/J & W/F into a story, so tell me what you think!  
  
  
  
Michael Vaughn didn't need to read a calendar to remember that it had been twenty-five months and six days since he had last seen Sydney Bristow. Somehow, that number was always easy to remember, compared to the number thirteen, which were how many months he'd been married to Alice.  
  
Then, of course, there was the number nine; the number of days he'd been back in Los Angeles.  
  
The truth was, it had been a long twenty five months and six days - seven hundred and sixty six days, his mind mentally popped in - since he'd last seen Sydney. Bad and good had happened, but he knew he hadn't found the happiness he had been so sure he'd strike after the Alliance crumpled. Part of him continued to hope that wherever Sydney was, she'd been less foolish and luckier than he'd been.  
  
In truth, the CIA owed a lot to the Alliance when it came to the destruction of SD-6. Word had been leaked out of the Alliance in early April of 2003 that the Alliance was investigating the possibility of shutting down the SD-6 cell. There were great concerns that significant funds were missing, missions were being blotched on a nearly regular basis, and there appeared to be several moles and not a single legitimate suspect. All trust in Arvin Sloane had been slowly gnawed away over the course of time, and his failures about to catch up with him.  
  
The possibility of SD-6 just collapsing under its own corruption had never occurred to the CIA. When the opportunity arose, and an informant in the Alliance leaked out a date for the destruction of the cell, the CIA acted. Within three days the teams were in order, and a mere two days later the office was raided. Unfortunately by then Arvin Sloane was gone, along with an estimated hundred million dollars that he'd been embezzling from the Alliance.  
  
With SD-6 gone, but the Alliance still intact, Sydney was aware that it wasn't safe for her in the states. Unwilling to go into Witness Protection, and with her double-agent status already blown, she came up with an unlikely solution. With Vaughn's help she was accepted into the Peace Corps. The paper trail was nonexistent, and he wasn't even aware of where she was sent. All he knew was that she was safe as an education volunteer for the program. She had been the one to point out that such a program was the last place they would have expected; the CIA had arranged for her to go to a country she had never been, that was far enough from civilization to gain her anonymity but close enough if she needed to be extracted immediately.  
  
He had mixed emotions knowing that Sydney's desperate measures phone call had never come. In the end, his relief won out over any childish disappointment. Sydney's safety was far more important than his ridiculous need to hear her voice and see her again. Their relationship had carried a tense undercurrent during its last few months, since he'd casually picked up his relationship with Alice again. By the time SD-6 crumpled, he was the one bringing up personal topics of conversation, anything to salvage an extra few minutes with her. Although she hadn't fully pulled back - she still smiled and answered any questions he had - there was something more reserved about her. Something that made a swift punch to the gut seem less painful.  
  
By September the CIA had tracked down Sloane. He had holed himself into a cheap motel room off the highway in a tiny, dusty town south of Tulsa. Three weeks the CIA surrounded his room, vainly attempting to negotiate. Keeping the media and curious locals away had been almost as frustrating as trying to contact the man inside. There had been minimal communication - his demands, the government's replies - for nineteen days. Then on the twenty-first day, having not heard anything in two days, the government broke into his room. Sloane had overdosed on painkillers and had been dead for an estimated eighteen hours when they found him.  
  
Two days later, after too many mornings spent hung over after dancing with Captain Morgan the night before, he proposed to Alice. Sloane's death had forced him to confront what he'd spent so long avoiding: Sydney was gone. It was for her benefit, but there would be no happy ending. The Peace Corp. was not only her chance to be anonymous, but also her opportunity to give back to a world that she felt she had taken so much from. With Alice he could be content; they could have a house and kids. Together they could pay a mortgage and run a house and take kids to sports practices. Perhaps it wasn't everything he had dreamed for himself, but it was normal and safe for everyone.  
  
The Alliance tumbled over on itself on October 4, 2003. Key players were arrested and indicted on the necessary charges. A few short weeks later, after she spent days with a cramped hand, overused from writing everything she knew, Irina Derevko was released from the cell that had been her home for over a year. As Jack had once proposed, the house on the beach that came fully equipped with around the clock surveillance was hers. She had held up her end of the bargain, since Sark had fallen right into their hands only days after Sloane's body was discovered. That way she was given a strong illusion of freedom, and was always available if they needed information. Eventually the CIA discovered that freedom was a powerful tool - once she began enjoying her freedom, her gardening, lounging around her home, Irina was even more willing to tell them what they needed when the opportunity arose. The last thing she wanted was to be brought back to that horrendous cell, and it wasn't as though she was a young woman anymore.   
  
Aside from Alice, his personal life expanded slightly. By the end of SD-6, Will had been working as an analyst and researcher for the CIA. Shortly after Sydney left. Will and Mike began a friendship. They'd go to hockey games or play against one another on the weekends. Eric and Will got along famously as well, and the three friends would play hockey or baseball for hours on the weekends. Over time Will and Francie even embarked on a relationship. As surprising as it had been at first, it almost made sense. They knew one another fabulously and had a great time together. Romance was a natural progression of their relationship.  
  
He married Alice in April of 2004, almost a year to the day after he last saw Sydney. As badly as he scolded himself for it and as hard as he tried to fight it, it was Sydney on his mind when he woke up and went to bed on his wedding day. The wedding had been modest, held in the Napa Valley region that she had been raised in. Alice's brother walked her down the aisle and his mother sat in the front row. His sister Charlotte was one of Alice's bridesmaids; Patrick, his brother in law, was one of his groomsmen, while his niece Maya was the flower girl.   
  
Brigitte Vaughn had attended the wedding, shaken hands and made polite conversation, but had told her son from the beginning that she felt he was making a mistake. No one could argue that Alice was a nice, good person, but Brigitte felt strongly that she was simply not right for her son. After much questioning from her younger brother, Charlotte confessed that she agreed.   
  
Needless to say, his mother was even less thrilled when he and Alice went promptly from their honeymoon to India. Needing to be out of L.A., he had accepted a yearlong assignment to India. He had taken the position with the state department with the hope that being in a new place with his new wife would help their relationship and help him forget the one thing he couldn't have. Truth be known, newly wedded life was almost a disappointment. Being in a different country, really only knowing one another, he'd entered the marriage with pre-conceived notions of early marital life. He'd expected to walk in the door and want to ravish his new wife against the wall, or to spend most of their free time half naked around the house, sharing showers, brushing up on one another's most delicate areas.  
  
It was nothing like that.  
  
The job's hours were reasonable; he even found himself enjoying the work. Alice was never particularly close to the family she had remaining in California, and had claimed she'd be fine with the move. Instead, he'd come home to find her sulky or complaining about another aspect of their life. Either he wasn't doing enough around the house, or he didn't trust her enough to take care of the house on her own. He'd offer to make dinner at night, and she'd translate that into meaning that he didn't like her cooking. He seemed to take one step forward and seven shuffles back; he felt as though he was walking a tightrope with nothing underneath to catch his fall.  
  
During a brief holiday trip back in December, he had been glad to see things going noticeably better for Will and Francie. So well, in fact, that Will rented a billboard that one passed when getting off the exit leading to Francie's restaurant. Calling in some connections at the CIA, he had it painted with his wedding proposal to Francie & his cell phone number. Within two days, he had half of the city calling to ask what she had said, and even ended up on the evening news. Francie's response had been an obvious yes, and their wedding was fast approaching.  
  
Their permanent return to Los Angeles, which he had desperately hoped would raise his wife's spirits, had done no such thing. Being back in California was a mixed blessing. On one hand, he was closer to Eric, Will and Francie, people he loved spending time with. As all things seemed to go for him at that point, Alice despised them. They annoyed her; they had such few common interests. Francie had gone out of her way to e-mail Alice while they were in India, desperately trying to get to know her, but Alice made no room to budge. Nothing beyond a cordial, barely pleasant e-mail or phone call had ever passed between the two. Not that Mike blamed her, but eventually, Francie stopped bothering.  
  
Often he wondered if it was that Eric, Will and Francie all had a connection to Sydney. While he had never clarified to his wife who Sydney was, she had heard the name enough to know it meant someone important. Mike's reservation in talking about her only infuriated Alice even more. None of his friends spoke about Sydney to him anymore, particularly since his marriage, although he suspected that Will and Francie remained in contact with her. Talking about her hurt too much - she was doing well, she was safe, and that was what mattered. If he knew where she was it would be too tempting, and he had to deal with the life he had built for himself.  
  
Another downside to being in California was that it proved his mother right. Brigitte had only seen them once since they arrived back in Los Angeles, but had promptly called her son at work on his first day back to ask when he was filing for divorce. His mother took him aback - she was an old-fashioned Catholic who only believed in divorce in the most extreme circumstances. Then when he had answered that they weren't getting divorced, he listened to her scold him in French for nearly an hour and a half. Deep down, he knew he deserved every bit of his mother's anger, but he was in too deep with Alice to walk away now.  
  
Michael walked out of the bathroom, adjusting his tie as he went. It was the second Monday of May, just a few short days until Francie and Will's wedding. Will had asked him to be one of the groomsmen, and while he had accepted, he was still searching his brain for an excuse as to why Alice wouldn't be with him. When he had brought up the subject, she had barely allowed him two words before she told him in no uncertain terms, no; if he were childish enough to associate with such people, he would do it on his own.   
  
"When are you going to be back?" Alice groaned. While it wasn't even six thirty in the morning, and his wife still lay nestled in the bed, her voice already had an aggravated edge to it. It seemed that he was damned if he didn't spend time with her, and damned if he did.  
  
"I'm not sure what work's supposed to be like. Eric and I have a meeting with the Deputy Director and some other agents late in the afternoon. Do you have any plans?"  
  
"What the fuck do you think?" she snapped as her head still lay on the pillow. "You need to get bread. And milk. You forgot to get them last night and I need them so don't forget this time."  
  
"I won't," he promised as he slipped on his suit jacket.   
  
"That's what you said yesterday and you still forgot," she muttered.  
  
"Damn it, give me a break, okay?" he snapped as he slid on his watch. The horrendous state of the marriage rested heavily on both of their shoulders and he knew it. "Jesus, I'm doing my best," he mumbled as he walked over to her. Out of habit he kissed her cheek and told her he'd see her later.   
  
"Don't forget the fucking bread and milk!" she called one more time as he shut the bedroom door behind him.   
  
An hour later he sat at his desk, absently toying with his favorite gold coin. The item had been played with more in the past thirteen months, than in the first thirty some odd years of his life combined. Eric Weiss stuck his head in the room, knocking on the door to grab his friend's attention.   
  
"Coffee? Or what the CIA claims is coffee?" he joked, walking in and handing his friend a paper cup.  
  
"Thanks," he sighed and took a sip.   
  
Eric sat down and studied his friend. Relationships had never been his strong point, at least romantic ones, but he was sure that marriage was supposed to make a person smile. One year of marriage was supposed to make your eyes sparkle, your smile grow wider, and you should still want to spend the rest of your life with that person. Instead, his best friend looked horrendous; his once bright eyes now seemed diluted by wear and tear, the bags under his eyes grew, and his mouth was constantly drawn into a frown.   
  
"Long night?"  
  
"Yeah," he sighed.  
  
"My guess is the honeymoon stage is over," he quipped.  
  
"What honeymoon stage?" he bantered, taking another sip of the coffee.   
  
"I know I asked you this when you got engaged, and right before the wedding, but for shits and giggles I think I'll ask again. Not to quote your brilliant mother, but why the hell did you marry her?"  
  
"Alice is a good person," he softly reminded him. Deep down he still believed that, but that good person was buried underneath all the anger and miscommunication and frustration that had built up over their short marriage. "She and I have a normal life."  
  
"If misery is normal - which the divorce rate does nothing to disprove - then you're normal."  
  
"Is it that obvious?"  
  
"Only because I have eyes," Eric shrugged. "Mike... It's not that you're not a good couple, or she's not a good person... It's just... Whenever I've seen you with her, it doesn't feel like it's the real you."  
  
"What does that mean?" His defenses - and his eyebrows - instantly rose at the question.  
  
"You let her do most of the talking, you don't really smile, and when you do, it seems unbelievably fake. It just seems that one moment you spend legitimately happy with her, is countered by five minutes you spend forcing yourself to be happy with her."  
  
"Eric, I love Alice."  
  
"Yes, you do," he agreed. "You love Alice. You've known her since you were nineteen years old. Summer love and all that crap. She was your first . . . Maybe not your first kiss, but let's face it buddy, she was your first everything else. You love her, you love what you've known with her, but you're not in love with her. You were nineteen when you fell for her, what the hell did you know? Maybe you never were in love with her."  
  
"How long have you been married?" he snapped. Instant regret hit his heart as his friend pulled back as though he'd been physically slapped.  
  
"You're right, I'm not married, but right about now I'd make a safe bet that you wished you weren't either."  
  
"I can't leave her now."  
  
"I know," his friend smirked. "Believe me, I've heard all the damn reasons why you can't leave her a million times over countless glasses of rum and coke."  
  
"I don't drink anymore."  
  
"Oh, but I bet when you go home at night you wish you still did."  
  
"We're just having a rough patch."  
  
"A thirteen month rough patch?" Eric quickly silenced when his friend sent him a sharp look. "Listen, I'm just giving you my opinion, it doesn't mean shit unless you agree with whatever I'm saying. I'll leave you alone, but don't forget about that meeting."  
  
"I won't," he promised as his friend walked out of his office.  
  
"Sorry." Sydney Bristow smiled at a nun as she accidentally bumped into her. It had been years since she'd been in an airport, and it almost seemed foreign as she walked over to the conveyor belt. Still not having fully adjusted to the time change, she covered a large yawn as she scanned the belt for her luggage. Most of her important earthly possessions - including her wedding gift for Will and Francie - were in her suitcase. If the airline lost it, she'd be screwed.  
  
Five minutes later, carefully skirting around a frantic looking mother with two young children, she grabbed her suitcase. Pushing her way through the crowd at LAX, she stepped outside into the L.A. air for the first time in two years. Walking up to the sidewalk, she spent a few seconds vainly trying to hail a cab until one finally noticed her. Apparently, in her obviously rumpled jeans and T-shirt, she didn't look as promising of a customer as the businessmen and busy families that surrounded her. Slamming the door shut, she slid her suitcase next to her. After relaying the directions to the cab driver, she sat back and tried to relax.  
  
Everything about Los Angeles - even the slightly smoggy skyline - was a relief to her. People still went about their lives oblivious to one another, the sun continued to shine, and trees continued to grow. As wonderful as her time away had been, she had missed this. Soon enough she'd see her father and she'd get to see Francie and Will and observe their romantic relationship for the first time. She had missed everyone terribly, and her arrival hadn't come a moment too soon.  
  
Paying the cab driver, she fought with her suitcase before walking up the sandy walkway. Pushing a disobedient strand of hair behind her ear, she looked around her as she rang the doorbell. Seconds later she heard it open, a voice calling out, "Sydney! You're home!"  
  
Looking up, she met her mother's big brown eyes, surprised at how wide her smile was. "Hi Mom." She smiled as Irina pulled her into an embrace.  
  
"Your father just left, he said that you'd be arriving today!" she explained as she welcomed her daughter into the house. Sydney had been expecting something similar to a safe house, and was surprised at how comfortable everything appeared to be. The living room was done in warm earth tones, mostly tans and light browns. A small fire burned in the fireplace, although it was a fairly warm June day.  
  
"Dad was just here?" she asked, her confusion growing when she noticed something on her mother's left hand.  
  
No, her mind quickly amended, not just *something*; a simple silver band on her *ring finger*.  
  
"Yes," Irina smiled widely. Quickly reading her daughter's confusion, she continued, "You can ask you know."  
  
Sydney smiled and shook her head. In truth, she was too tired to even consider trying to translate her parents' relationship. No matter how hard they tried to fight with their heads, she was slightly relieved to see that their hearts had won out. In fact, they were still married, her mind reminded her. Although she knew how much deceit and pain her parents had caused one another during the span of their relationship, seeing that they appeared to legitimately care - possibly even love - one another, gave her hope in that her conception had not just been a rouse or completely pointless.  
  
"You must be exhausted," her mother gently spoke, taking the suitcase and setting it in the corner. "Why don't you go take a shower and then when you come back we can sit and talk?"  
  
Despite her reservations, she found herself nodding. The only person she'd had contact with since she had left was her father. On the brief occasions where he'd mention her mother, he'd given her no reason to believe she was anything less than trustworthy. There was no way she could completely forget or forgive her mother's sins - most noticeably, killing the father of a man who had once meant the world to her and then abandoning Sydney when she was only six years old - but they could move on. They could continue to build a new relationship. Since she'd turned herself into CIA custody three years ago, she had been nothing but cooperative and true to her word.  
  
An hour later Sydney sat on the carpet in front of the fireplace, her legs tucked comfortably underneath her. Her hair was still damp and slightly curly from the recent shower, and curled around her face as her mother walked into the room.   
  
"Here, warm tea. I know you have things to do, but it'll help you sleep later," Irina smiled as she handed her daughter a mug. Then she sat down across from her, almost a mirror of her daughter, as she balanced her own mug in her hands.  
  
"Thank you," she smiled and took a sip.   
  
"So what was it like?" she asked, eager to hear all of her daughter's stories. Irina's one and only frequent visitor was Jack, and he'd constantly talked about how she was doing, but she wanted to hear about her daughter's experiences from the source.   
  
"Hard," she sighed but didn't stop smiling. "I think I'm more ready to be a teacher now than I was when I left. I've learned a lot, not only about the country, but about how to be a good teacher."  
  
"Where were you stationed?"  
  
"Armenia."  
  
"I've never been there," Irina realized.  
  
"Neither had I, which was part of the reason I chose it. A lot of my work was in Yerevan."   
  
"The capital," her mother recalled as she nodded.  
  
"Yes. I learned how to make Yalanchy Sarma, which are stuffed grape leaves, and Patlijan Kufta, which are eggplant meatballs. . . I was given the opportunity to work with some wonderful students. One of my students even received a scholarship and will be starting at Oxford in the fall."  
  
"Oxford? That's impressive."  
  
"She didn't even know English when I started working with her," Sydney beamed proudly.   
  
"You must be glad to be home though."  
  
"I've missed Los Angeles... I've missed everyone. It feels like I've missed so much."  
  
"Your friends are getting married, aren't they? Francie and Will?" she recalled Jack's mention of it.  
  
"Yes. They weren't even dating when I left, and now they're getting married in a week. I have to go to the seamstress' tomorrow. Francie ordered the dress for me, so hopefully my dress size hasn't changed too much since I left."  
  
"You look wonderful, I'm sure the seamstress won't have any problems," she insisted.   
  
"I promised Dad I'd go see him before I went home..."  
  
"Where are you staying?"   
  
"I don't know yet," she laughed. Will had moved in with Francie, and while she knew the offer was open, she didn't want to barge in right before their wedding. There was the option of staying with her father, but she realized not for the first time, that she had no idea where her father lived.  
  
"You could stay here," Irina cautiously suggested. "I have an extra room... I'd love to have you around," she confessed as Sydney smiled. Her relationship with her mother would never be easy, but no Mother-Daughter relationship ever was. The important thing was that she could at least *have* a relationship with her mother, and simply be able to talk to her mom about something less critical than nuclear warheads and antidotes to terminal diseases, was more than she had hoped for.  
  
"That'd be nice," she smiled. Her plans hadn't even included seeing Will and Francie until the following day, and the extra time with her mother would be nice.  
  
"You need to see your father too. Will you be going to see Agent Vaughn as well?"  
  
Quickly her smile evaporated, the sadness clearly written in her eyes as she shook her head. "No, I wasn't planning on it."  
  
"He's not happy Sydney."  
  
"You haven't seen him," she reminded her mother.  
  
"I haven't," she conceded. "However, it was obvious years ago that whatever attempts he made to live a normal life would end in misery. He's been in India for a year on assignment; my guess is to escape the memory of you."  
  
"Mom, he's married," she explained. "I'm sure he and Alice are very happy together," she said confidently.   
  
Despite the pangs in her heart, she did wish that they were happy. Falling in love with Vaughn had taught her a lot; one being that the CIA's rules of protocol weren't all that stupid, and they could have saved her a lot of pain. In the end, however, she wouldn't have changed how she felt for him, even if it remained forever untouched. When she saw Alice, she didn't feel jealous, just sad; she wanted him happy. He had wanted normalcy and she hadn't been able to offer it at the time; she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to, but if he was happy then she was happy. At least Alice had seemed like a really nice person, which, at times, she wasn't sure she counted as anymore.  
  
"You at least need to see him Sydney. I'm sure he'll want to know you're back and safe. I doubt the man's slept well in twenty four months, wondering where you were and if you were okay."  
  
"I doubt Vaughn ever thinks about me," she insisted.   
  
"You can't possibly believe you meant so little to that man."  
  
"We were colleagues."  
  
"Sweetheart..." Irina shook her head as her daughter took a sip of her tea. Sydney's eyes fell on her watch and realized how late it was. "You need to go see your father?" Irina smiled as she nodded and started to stand.  
  
"I'll be back later, if that's okay?"   
  
"That'd be wonderful," she agreed. "I'll make dinner, your favorite," she promised.  
  
"Great."   
  
"Would you like to borrow my car?"  
  
"You have a car?"  
  
"There's a tracking device, and once in awhile I'm even tailed, but yes, I have a car." She smiled as she reached over and handed her daughter the car keys.   
  
"You don't need it?"  
  
"What for? I'm going to stay here and cook dinner. Go see your father, and while you're there, go see Agent Vaughn. Even if you just drop by his office and tell his secretary you're back in town. Trust me, Sydney," she whispered as she placed her keys in her daughter's hand, gently folding Sydney's fingers over them. "Agent Vaughn's going to want to know you're back."  
  
"I'll see you in a few hours," she promised, purposely making no such promise.   
  
For the first time, Sydney walked into the CIA through the front door. There was no reason for her to be scared anymore. She did have tails on her, but given the fact that she was driving her mother's car, she instantly recognized them as CIA employees. During the short ride over, she had played with her mother's radio, getting readjusted to Los Angeles radio, all while trying not to obsess over what she had seen on her mother's left ring finger. When it came to her parents, it could mean a myriad of things. Perhaps they got along well enough to decide that a divorce was too much of a hassle; perhaps it was something more than that. Either way, she wasn't certain she was ready for the whole truth on her first day back in Los Angeles.  
  
Walking past the front secretaries and security guards, Sydney showed her clearance ID. At that point she was glad to remember that once you had security clearance, you always had security clearance, no matter how long it had been since you used it. Making her way towards the elevators, she watched the men and women at work for their country; no one looked familiar, but their cause, keeping the country safe, was one she still held dear to her heart.  
  
Nowadays, her father's office was on the fourth floor of the CIA building, a few doors down from the office of Deputy Director Devlin. A few various people seemed to recognize her as she stepped onto the elevator; not so much as Sydney Bristow, (although according to her father and Will, she had become something of a CIA legend) but as Jack Bristow's daughter. All things considered, she reasoned that there were far worse things to be known as. Such as Irina Derevko's daughter. As much as she loved her mother - and she long ago accepted the fact that, good or bad, she *would* always love her mother - she didn't particularly want to be remembered as the daughter of a Russian assassin who murdered twelve CIA operatives.  
  
Pushing past a few people, she got out of the elevator. The fourth floor, just as the first, was filled with people going about their workday. They were all oblivious to her. Turning right, she started down a hallway towards her father's office. A quick glance at her watch, and she estimated that he would be out of his meeting shortly. Before she had even left Armenia he had told her that he had a meeting the day that she arrived, but wanted her to come by the CIA anyway. Just as she was building up her relationship with her mother, she was working to repair the gap with her father as well.  
  
Turning the corner, she stopped in her tracks, nearly bumping into two unsuspecting CIA analysts. No more than two feet away, walking in her direction, was Michael Vaughn. Although he was looking down at a folder in his hands, there was no question as to whom it was. His face looked drawn out in worry, and he looked as though he hadn't slept in ages. There he was though; if you added in a wedding band and a batch of new wrinkles, he was exactly the man she remembered.  
  
Michael walked quickly down the hallway, scanning the folder in his hands. The meeting with Jack, Devlin and Eric had gone reasonably well; he had all of the Intel they had asked him to bring. The entire meeting had gone far faster than he had suspected. Eric was usually the one who attempted to rush meetings along, but today Jack Bristow seemed in a hurry to see it end it. Whatever he was planning on doing after was obviously more important than attending a monthly review meeting.  
  
Sensing someone watching him, he stopped walking and looked up. There wasn't just *someone* watching him - *Sydney* was watching him. Blinking twice, he wasn't entirely sure she was real. Just standing there, in the CIA hallway with her hair slightly damp, dressed in jeans with a turtleneck peaking out under a sweatshirt. The _expression on her face, one of surprise and shock, was mirrored on his own.   
  
Taking a few precarious steps towards her, he shut the folder and looked at her. From the gaze he held on her, she wondered if he was just waiting for her to vanish. "Syd?"  
  
Laughing nervously, she smiled. "Hey."  
  
"Hi." His eyes widened.   
  
Unable to stop herself, Sydney stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Seeing him had been the last thing she wanted to do, but then he was right there in front of her. He looked far worse for wear than she did, and she hadn't slept in nearly two days, as well as suffering from jetlag from her significant flight from Armenia.   
  
"You're back," he realized as she stepped out of his arms.  
  
"Yeah, I just got back today," she explained as she nervously brushed hair behind her ear.   
  
"Where were you?"  
  
"Armenia."  
  
"Armenia? Armenia," he said surprise. His reaction reminded her of when she had saved him in France. Of course 'France' sounded far more romantic on his lips than Armenia did, but she supposed Armenia was a type of word that was hard to make appealing. "Wow," he softly explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Yeah," she smiled as he met her eyes.  
  
"What... What are you doing here?" he asked when he remembered that she was no longer an employee of the CIA.   
  
"I'm here to see my dad," she informed him. He nodded, suddenly aware that Jack's earlier behavior now made sense. If he had known that he'd be seeing her for the first time in two years, he would have rushed through the meeting as well.  
  
"You should probably go then," he remembered as she nodded. "It was... really nice to see you again."  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, her sad smile breaking his heart. "It was."   
  
Quickly grazing his top lip with his finger, he glanced up at her and then down at the floor before quietly remarking, "I missed you." After his confession, he managed to look up and gauge her reaction.  
  
Keeping her eyes in the direction of the floor tile, she responded, "I missed you too." She looked up and smiled at him. The smile that he returned caused his face to relax, and he looked far younger than he had mere seconds before.   
  
"You should go see your dad," he remembered in a gravely voice. Another sad smile crossed her face as she nodded and walked by him.  
  
Neither noticed the other glance over their shoulder to watch them walk away. 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Lightkeeper   
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)  
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com  
Story Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles.  
  
A/N: Make it short; J.J. Abrams is a genius; looking for a job is a pain (don't ANY bookstores hire??); UConn & Duke men lost, but my UConn girls kicked the butts of the Dukie girls so Yay!!!!; got my permit, still to short to see over a steering wheel; less then a month until the Yankees first spring training game is on CBS!   
**PLEASE** Read & Respond! Even if you hate it, please be constructive and tell me where I went wrong!   
  
Dedication: To every sweet, wonderful, fabulous e-mail buddy I have that deserves e-mail.   
  
  
"So you saw him," Irina grinned proudly as she set her daughter's favorite meal on the table.  
  
"It wasn't on purpose," she pointlessly reminded her Mother as they started to eat.  
  
Estimating that her daughter wasn't going to share more then that, she nodded and began on another topic. "You saw your Father?"  
  
"Yes," she nodded. Sydney remembered the slightly awkward embrace the two had exchanged, which was followed by nearly an hour of conversation. As those things went there was an expected amount of awkward, silent moments, but for the most part they had managed to keep a good flow to the conversation. Apparently she had discovered a way to break open a relationship with Jack Bristow - two years of massive numbers of e-mail mixed in with a handful of scattered phone conversations.  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"He seemed happy to see me," she shrugged.  
  
"Well of course he is, you're his daughter."  
  
Across the table she smiled at her Mother, deciding against reminding Irina that she and her Father were deeply estranged for several years. "This is good," she instead chose to comment as she ate her dinner. That meal, pork chops, had been one of her perennial favorites as a child. After two years away, it was nice to have something close to a home cooked meal.  
  
"Good, it was always your favorite," she remembered with a pleased smile. "Perhaps we could have your Father over for dinner on Sunday night, unless you have other plans? I could make whatever you'd like."  
  
Sydney smiled although still baffled by the true nature of her parent's relationship. Deep in her mind she supposed that parents were like that, regardless of how dysfunctional they could be. "That'd be nice," she agreed.   
  
"Wonderful," she smiled and took a sip of her wine. "I'm sure your Father will be pleased," she commented as her daughter nodded her agreement. "You're going to see your friend's tomorrow?"  
  
"Yes," she smiled. "I'm meeting Will and Francie for an early lunch at her restaurant."  
  
"Your Father took me to her restaurant once. Of course your Father had to introduce me as a friend, but Francie did say we share a great resemblance, which I took as the highest compliment," she smiled as her daughter grinned back. There was no question that while she was now over fifty years old, Irina was still a beautiful woman, with a face full of lightly etched laugh lines and a handful of nearly chic streaks of gray in her otherwise chestnut hair. "I met both of your friends there. I believe your reporter friend knew who I was."  
  
"He does," she agreed, her voice slightly strained. As much as she loved her Mother, she still ached to think of the trauma her organization had forced one of her best friends through.  
  
"They both seemed like very lovely people, very friendly, warm individuals," she said before her voice lowered. "I'm not sure what amount of weight my opinion bears on your shoulders, but for what it's worth I'm grateful you've had such wonderful, honest people in your life when I was not."  
  
Swallowing back her food, she nodded, "I met them in college. We were inseparable. For a long time . . . Francie thought I was insane for taking all of the languages that UCLA offered, and then she thought all of my bank trips were beyond absurd . . . I'm sure she'll find some aspect of my life that's still crazy," she smiled at the thought.  
  
"And Mr. Tippin?"  
  
"Will . . " She grew thoughtful before continuing. "Will loves me, very much, and for awhile he was . . . Confused. He'd do anything in the world for Francie and I. He's a good man, very loyal."  
  
"Loyalty is not a trait to be easily overlooked," Irina commented as Sydney nodded, trying not to dwell on how her Mother acquired her drop of wisdom. "Were you ever in love with Mr. Tippin?"  
  
"What?" Her head shot up. "No, nothing like that, ever. He was actually the one who introduced me to Danny . . ." She remembered, growing somber at the memory of the man she had loved.  
  
"You're not nervous about seeing your friends again, are you?"  
  
Her shoulders shrugged slightly and an embarrassed smile graced her features, "they've been my best friends for over ten years . . But so much has changed. When I left they weren't even *dating* - now they're getting married . . "  
  
"Change can be good."  
  
"It can be," she agreed as she looked down at her now empty plate. "I know they make each other happy, I guess . . . I'm just hoping that there's still a place for me."  
  
Irina nodded, silently understanding that her daughter wasn't just referring to her place in Will and Francie's lives.  
  
Sydney found the following morning reassuringly and surprisingly reminiscent of the mornings she remembered as a child. Her Mother woke her up halfway through Good Morning America and her favorite breakfast - French toast - was waiting. Sitting across the kitchen table from her Mother in her frog print pajamas she began to wonder how much of Laura Bristow was a figment of Irina's imagination and how much came from who she truly longed to be. After breakfast she showered, surprised to walk out and find her Mother had already set out an outfit, including the necessary undergarments and warm white socks, for her to wear that day. At thirty years old, no one had done that for her since she was six, and it left a slightly surprised and endearing impression upon her heart. There was more then abundant proof to indicate that Irina hadn't lied when she turned herself in a few short years ago - she had no ulterior motive then to want to be in her daughter's life again.   
  
Irina was curled up contently on the warm colored sofa, reading a thick Russian novel when Sydney walked in. Setting her book down, she smiled warmly at her daughter; pleased that she had chosen to wear the outfit she had set out. It had been such a long time since she had been allowed to put an impact - at least a positive impact - on her daughter's life. Deep down Irina was too happy with recent events to question whether she deserved all that she was being given.   
  
"You shouldn't be late meeting your friends," she insisted as she gestured to the car keys waiting on the coffee table.  
  
"I shouldn't be," she assured her Mother, picking up the keys. "Thanks for letting me borrow the car," she smiled. This was a conversation she had imagined in her head several times when she was a teenager - obviously at the time the circumstances inside of her imagination were far different, but the foundation remained the same. Sydney was no longer a teenager, and now Irina Derevko, not Laura Bristow, was really her Mother. The important part was that she once again had a Mother, one who truly appeared to love and want her in her life. In her life she supposed the unexpected was all that could be expected.  
  
"Drive safely!" She called as her daughter smiled and nodded, waving goodbye before slipping out the door.  
  
The drive from her Mother's home to Francie's restaurant had taken ten minutes longer then her previous days journey to the CIA offices. Originally they had agreed to meet at the seamstress, but Will had e-mailed her saying the plans had changed; the three of them were going to have a brunch together at the restaurant before the two women headed off to 'laugh over dress patterns and fabrics', in Will's words.  
  
Will had obviously never been tailored for a dress; she shook her head with a chuckle.   
  
Although it was only the middle of the morning it was still a struggle to find a parking space within distance of Francie's restaurant. The sound of laughter could be heard even as she approached the restaurant door, and she was unable to stop a smile when she saw how popular Francie's restaurant had become, even with the usually lagging breakfast bunch. Walking in she searched the crowd for her friends, for once glad that she was tall.  
  
"Hey, Syd!" A familiar voice called as she swirled around to see Francie and Will. Both wore face-splitting grins and were ecstatically waving her over.  
  
"I've missed you so much!" Francie immediately pulled her into a tight hug as she embraced her friend back.  
  
"You look so great!" Sydney complimented as her friend shrugged and smiled. "Hey you," she greeted Will as she hugged him.  
  
"How was your flight?" Will asked as Sydney slid into the other side of the booth across from her   
friends.  
  
"It was a flight," she smiled and shrugged. "Let me see the ring!" She declared as Francie held out her left ring finger. "Oh Fran, it's beautiful," she said as her friend beamed. "Very nice taste in jewelry," she teased Will.  
  
"Thank you," he smiled.   
  
"I'm so happy your back in time Syd," Francie exclaimed as they ordered their breakfast.  
  
"I wouldn't have missed this for anything," she promised.  
  
"You know your more then welcomed to stay with us - " she started.  
  
"Nonsense. You two are planning a wedding, you don't need me in your hair," she reassured them with a smile.  
  
"Where are you staying?" Will questioned.  
  
"With my Dad," she explained as they nodded. "This place is doing so well," she realized as she looked around the restaurant.  
  
"A lot better then I ever thought," Francie agreed.  
  
"Hey, how's work going for you?" Sydney asked Will. Even after two years Will clearly read the look in her eyes; she wasn't so interested in the actual work as she was in whom he could be working with.  
  
"It's fine," he shrugged, making a mental note to pull her aside later. Although Jack Bristow had kept them updated as much as possible, he wondered just how much Jack had been telling Sydney.  
  
"He's working with some seriously cute guys Syd," Francie spoke up.  
  
"Goofy cute or hot cute?" Sydney asked as Will snorted.  
  
"I'm right here!" He spoke up as the girls laughed.  
  
"Hot cute. There's this one . . . Seriously Syd, I think I showed him one picture of you and I thought the guy was going to swoon. Except the guys married to a total bitch."  
  
"Of course," Syd agreed and took a sip of her coffee.   
  
"We see him a lot, so I'm sure you'll meet him soon. He's a great guy too, just as long as his wife isn't around."  
  
"Alice isn't that bad," Will meekly defended as Sydney studied her coffee. Just as she had expected, they were referring to none other then Michael Vaughn. How many other Alice's are there out there, she wondered. "They've been through a lot, give her some credit."  
  
"They haven't had an easy go of it," Francie agreed. "But that still doesn't excuse her for being a rude bitch," she looked at her fiancé before meeting her best friend's brown eyes. "Michael is going to be Will's best man, which is great. He's such a nice guy Syd; I really think you'll like him. So I tried to be polite and called and left her a message asking if she wanted to be a bridesmaid. Now I would have asked her out to lunch and asked her then but I don't think she ever leaves the house! So she called me back on my voicemail and tells me how rude *I* am for asking her such an important question on a answering machine!"  
  
"Do you know her well?"  
  
"I don't think anyone knows her well," Francie sighed with regret. "I've tried Syd, really hard to be nice to her, but it's just a completely uphill battle. Eventually I just gave up, it's too much of a hassle, especially when she turns around and yells at *me* for being a horrible person."  
  
"At least you tried," she pointed out with a shrug. As horrible as it was, she was relieved that in her absence she hadn't lost her best friend to Alice Vaughn. If that had happened she wasn't sure she how she would have reacted; she was simply relieved that she'd never have to find out.   
  
"You'll meet them at the rehearsal dinner," Francie assured her.  
  
"I have to wait an entire week?" She teased. The wedding was the following Saturday - eight days and counting. If her arrival had been any later, they might not have been able to make adjustments to her bridesmaid gown.  
  
"Trust me your not missing anything by not meeting Alice Vaughn," Francie sighed. "You know how when we were in college all the ugly girls or bitches got the really great guys?" She asked as Sydney laughed and nodded. "It reminds of me that."  
  
All Sydney could do was shake her head in amusement, as Will grew slightly embarrassed. "I'm sure she must have her good qualities, if this man is as wonderful as you say he is and he fell in love with her," she pointed out. Yes, her mind bitterly reminded her, Alice had always seemed like a nice person. The life Alice and Michael had shared since Sydney's departure had not been an easy one, and she knew that. Bitter circumstances could ebb away even the nicest persons well-intentioned soul. If anyone knew something about that, she knew it would be herself.  
  
Deciding that this conversation needed to be turned in a slightly less sensitive subject, Sydney smiled at her friends and spoke. "You know neither one of you ever really told me what happened between you too," she reminded them.  
  
"Syd, really . . " Will started.  
  
"It's really boring," Francie agreed.  
  
"I want to know," she insisted with a smile.   
  
"It's the most anti-climatic story," Will shot back. All Sydney did was shake her head and smile, patiently waiting for her friends to fess up.  
  
"It was less then a month after you had left, and we decided to celebrate my anniversary with the restaurant by cooking this ridiculously huge dinner for ourselves at apartment," Francie started.  
  
"Francie was trying to get the whip cream for dessert but she had the can thing and it wouldn't come out," Will started to chuckle at the memory as Francie grew embarrassed. "Sorry," he apologized to his fiancée before looking back at his friend. "So, she turns the nozzle so she can look at it, and it *finally* works, but it sprays all over her chin!"  
  
The three of them were laughing as Sydney spoke, forcing herself to keep her laughing low. "That still doesn't explain how you two ended up together!"  
  
"Okay," Will's laughter stopped, as he grew slightly more serious. "Francie tries to get all of the whip cream off of her chin, but she ends up with this massive glob on the bottom of her chin," he explained as Sydney struggled to not laugh at the image. "So I reach over to wipe it off her chin and somehow my lips end up on hers."  
  
"See?" Francie shrugged. "It's really boring."  
  
"I think it's really sweet," Sydney corrected. In truth it was a sweet story, the type you could sit and tell your grandchildren around a fire without worrying about corrupting their tiny minds. It was a type of sweet story that she'd never have the privilege to tell grandchildren - after all, you can't have grandchildren without children and it's not looking promising on that front, she remembered sadly. "So, what color is my dress?"  
  
"Light blue - it's so pretty Syd, I really think your going to love it," Francie smiled.  
  
"It's nice," Will agreed. "Remember all of those weddings we went to right after college?" He asked her as she nodded. After their college graduations their had been an influx of weddings to attend. "Most of them had some really horrific color patterns and dresses, but I promise you this one is *nothing* like that."  
  
"I'm sure I'll love it," she smiled.   
  
"What was the Peace Corp like?" Francie questioned.  
  
"It was so . . . *Exciting*," she recalled the recent memories fondly. "I'm not sure if it was where I was or because it was my first opportunity to teach, and I was able to really help those kids by teaching them. I worked with some really wonderful people, a lot of great volunteers from the Peace Corp and other countries . . . " She brushed hair behind her ear before looking at her friends. "I always wanted to be a teacher, for as long as I could remember, but after I lost my Mom," she carefully worded, well aware that Francie was still unaware of the true nature of her former employment and her families complicated history. "Part of me just went through the motions because *she had*," she shrugged. "Being in Armenia, working with those kids . . . I finally realized I actually had a *passion* for teaching, that I wasn't just doing it because she had but because it was what I was really meant to do," her smile widened as her friend's smiles grew in response. "It was a really awesome feeling."  
  
"I wish I did something that awesome," Francie commented and took a sip of her drink.  
  
"Hey, you own one of the most successful restaurants in Los Angeles!" Will pointed out, leaning over to kiss his fiancée's cheek. "If nothing else works, just remember that you're marrying the most wonderful man in California in a week," he teased as they all laughed.  
  
Sydney found the meal she shared with her friends to be slightly reassuring. There was one obvious fact that she was unable to ignore however - this wasn't the life she had left behind. It was still Los Angeles, they were still the people she loved and who loved her, but everything was different. After all, her internal wit questioned, how many times did Francie and Will lean over to kiss each other during dinner *before* you left for Armenia? Not only that, there were quite references to people, events and places that meant nothing to her. She had no idea what 'turnips' or 'Frohike's here' made them laugh - other then Will's former obsession over the cult hit, 'The X-Files'. Not that her friend's weren't going out of their way to share the anecdotes with her, to assimilate her back into their lives - they were - but even that would take time.   
  
The Sydney Bristow who had left Los Angeles was not the one who had returned, and she was slowly realizing her foolishness at believing it would be the same Los Angeles she had abandoned.  
  
One thing that hadn't changed - one thing she doubted ever would change - was Francie's fabulous fashion sense. The simple chiffon bridesmaids gown had fit her like a glove, and Sydney fell in love when she saw her best friend's wedding gown resting on a hanger. From the glow on her face whenever she was around Will to the blush on her cheeks when Sydney confidentially asked for every exact detail, it was clear as glass that they were happy together and would remain as such for the rest of their lives.  
  
Stepping into the house early Friday evening, Sydney was assaulted with the ambrosia smell of fresh baked cookies, a scent that hadn't greeted her homecoming in over two decades. Mother and daughter ordered pizza and relaxed in the living room, staying up to watch 'Gone With the Wind' together until the earliest hours of Saturday. During the movie - a favorite for both - she found herself sharing funny stories regarding teaching and her past with her Mother and receiving the same in return. They spoke about annoying students and Irina warned her about even more annoying parents. Her Mother was eager to hear all about Francie's wedding plans and how she and Sydney's other best friend had managed to get together. Of all the surprises in the world, Sydney discovered that no one was as big of romantic as Irina Derevko.  
  
For Sydney Saturday was another slow day. Francie and Will were driving north for the day to meet with her family to finalize plans for the reception dinner and her Father had claimed that he had work to do. Instead she plodded around the house, watching cable television and baking with her Mother. In the evening they went down to the beach as the day's visitors slowly trickled out, leaving Mother and Daughter to eat a picnic dinner and enjoy the sunset.  
  
On the other side of the city, the weekend wasn't going so peacefully for Michael Vaughn. After waking up to Alice berating him for his apparent inability to correctly wash colors, he escaped the house for an hour under the guise of walking Donovan. Unfortunately for him, in his absence his wife had discovered that their dog (*his* dog, his silently corrected her during her scolding) had apparently learned how to take books off of a bookshelf and had torn a book to shreds. To make matters worse the book was her copy of Louisa May Alcott's "A Modern Mephistopheles" - a cherished gift her late Father had given her upon her acceptance to Dartmouth's English program.  
  
In his neck of the woods, Sunday was a slight improvement. Although his wife insisted she wouldn't go - he found himself unable to get her to leave the house for anything - he escaped in the late morning to go to the usual Vaughn Sunday dinner at his Mother's house. As always Brigitte was a warm, welcoming sanctuary from the storm, and his sister and brother-in-law were tactful enough not to mention his wife. Instead he cuddled his one-year-old nephew close and even agreed to a tea party with his nearly four-year-old niece. Eventually he knew he had to leave, and hesitantly he left shortly before darkness fell, accepting the leftovers his Mother always sent for Alice as well as his Mother's kind words. Brigitte was far from Alice's biggest fan, but she would never have wished ill fortune upon the girl - she had already experienced more then enough during her brief marriage.  
  
At the Bristow residence - although Sydney wasn't entirely sure if she should refer to her Mother's as the Bristow's or the Derevko's - Sunday morning and early afternoon were busy. Once they had finished languidly reading through the paper, it was time to prepare for her Father's arrival. There was an unusual sprint in Irina's step when she spoke of Jack's forthcoming arrival, something that Sydney could never recall seeing as an adult. As soon as the dinner was warming up, and the house was clean from top to bottom, her Mother smiled brightly and retreated up the stairs to prepare for dinner. All Sydney did was get comfortable in the living room with a book and wonder just what to expect for the upcoming evening.  
  
When her Father arrived promptly at six and dressed in his usual suit, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Sydney had been the one to answer the door and smiled as her Father offered her a bottle of champagne for the evening. "To celebrate your homecoming," Jack explained as his daughter took his coat for him.  
  
She smiled up at her Father as she heard her Mother walking into the room. Although her dress was simple and her make up a barely noticeable dusting on her features, Sydney's keen eye picked up on her Mother's need to look better for her Father. "Hello Jack," she greeted with a smile. Turning around briefly, Sydney hung up her Father's trench coat and was slightly surprised to turn around to see her parents in an embrace of welcome. Blinking only once, they were separated and she was left to wonder if it ever happened at all.  
  
Dinner was served shortly after Jack's arrival in a dimly lit dining room. The entire atmosphere - from her parents sitting at opposite ends of the table to the silk flower arrangement that served as the centerpiece of the dining room table - was deja vu to the few childhood memories she had of her parents. The conversation between her parents not only flowed smoothly, but also was devoid of any sharp edges or an undercurrent of accusation and betrayal. They talked about her life, her time in the Peace Corps and her future plans - including Jack's offer that the CIA would gladly hire her in whatever capacity she wished. Although she smiled at her Father's offer, she had already set her mind that she wasn't going to enter the 'family business', not even in a role as meek as a linguist with the agency.  
  
Irina's culinary skills far surpassed anything Sydney remembered, but she realized that her taste was far more advanced then it had been as a six year old. Even Jack complimented her on the exquisite meal. Everything on the table was made from scratch and, from Sydney's observations, all made from the top of Irina's head, free of any recipe books. Somehow in a mind full of world espionage and a life of deceit, there was a real shadow of Laura Bristow screaming to be released from her body.  
  
For dessert her Mother had stumbled upon one of Sydney's downfalls in life with a delicious New York Cheesecake. She was far too busy enjoying the delicious dessert to mind that it was the one part of the evening that her Mother had not mastered. Apparently the Russian's don't teach the finer points of American desserts, her mind quipped as she inhaled her second piece.   
  
"Darling, you must be exhausted, why don't you go take a shower?" Her Mother suggested after she declared she couldn't eat another bite, no matter how tempting the remaining pieces of cheesecake looked.  
  
Carefully eyeing her Father, Sydney shook her head. While she logically knew they must have spent *some* time alone together during her two year departure, it still felt like an uneasy idea in the pit of her stomach. Surely they were two mature, intelligent adults, and they had spent a decade married; hell, they were technically still man and wife. However she never would have left the Mother and Father she had known alone without a few security guards and bars between them, and now her Mother was telling her it was fine to leave them alone in Irina's dining room, sipping wine and making chit-chat?  
  
"It's fine sweetheart," Jack carefully soothed her, still not used to playing the roll of loving Father. "I won't leave until you come back down to say goodnight," he assured her.  
  
Glancing between her parents again, she finally nodded her agreement. "Do you need help picking up -" she asked when she realized the table was still covered in their dishes.  
  
"I'll take care of it, go enjoy a nice shower," Irina smiled at her. After a brief hesitation, she smiled at both of her parents and excused herself. Perhaps her parents would never be normal, her mind considered as she climbed the stairs towards the bathroom, but if she could leave them alone for an hour without them causing bodily harm to one another she'd be thrilled.  
  
There was a certain sense of peace that came over her as she showered, knowing that both of her parents were nearby and seemingly communicating without violence. With the peace came a comfort she hadn't felt in so many years. Regardless of her own ability, and even her age - thirty-one had come and passed just weeks before - it was nice to know that her parents were there and they would not let anything happen to her. Occasionally it was just nice to be taken care of.  
  
Even though her parents had seen her in her pajamas, they'd even changed her diapers in a world so far away; she decided not to change into her bedclothes yet. Instead she slipped on sweatpants and a tank top. Sitting on her Mother's guest bed, she blotted her hair until it was dry, taking her time brushing it as she heard various noises downstairs. Much to her relief everything sounded commonplace, nothing to alarm her nearly paranoid sense of environment.  
  
An eerie, almost too peaceful calm had set over the lower level of the house as her bare feet reached the carpeted living room. Sydney enjoyed the sensations that her Mother's plush, soft carpet made on her toes as she walked towards the kitchen. Listening closely, she hoped that the silence wasn't caused by her Father leaning over to murder her Mother; then again, Jack had been known to kill for far less. Turning the corner, half expecting to see the kitchen covered in dirty pots, pans, dishes and one of her parents blood, she stopped cold.  
  
Irina was leaned up against the stove, oblivious to the dishes that needed to be rinsed and set in the dishwasher. Instead she was quite obviously preoccupied. Her long arms were wrapped snugly around her ex-husband (husband? Sydney still wasn't sure) and Jack's arms were slung comfortably low on Irina's hips. Not only were they embracing, but also their lips were dueling passionately. So passionately that they didn't notice her as she stood there, in shock for a period of seconds, time that seemed to pass as molasses. Realizing that she didn't want to get caught staring, and that she was beginning to have trouble breathing; she quickly dashed back up the stairs.  
  
Sitting on the bed, she looked at the alarm clock and regained her composure. Her parents . . . . Irina Derevko, enemy of the United States government (and also her Mother), was wrapped in a passionate embrace with loyal CIA employee Jack Bristow. There wasn't even a time in her memory when she recalled walking in on her parents. Her parents . . . It was quite simply the best and worst thing she could think of seeing. Blinking rapidly she finally processed that she was blinking away her tears. Seeing her parents apparently happy was marvelous. What child, no matter what age, didn't want their parents happy? The entire concept of her parents being happy with one another should have made it better for her.  
  
The thought that really nagged at her mind, however, was one of pain. Not even her own parents were the same; they hadn't even been honest about their relationship! Just more evidence that Sydney didn't know where she belonged anymore. Apparently her absence, instead of hindering her parent's relationship, had let it progress. What else had her presence put a hindrance on? They were *kissing*, acting as though they were still husband and wife. Truth be known she wasn't entirely sure they *weren't*.  
  
Looking at the red digits on her alarm clock, the large 7:48 that glared back at her, she wanted someone to talk to. She needed some confirmation that she was back for more then just Francie's wedding; that she was wanted there. No doubt her parents wanted her, but had they needed her in their life? As selfish as it was, without SD-6 and the Alliance to take down, the CIA hadn't needed her. If Sydney had one downfall in life, it was that she desperately wanted - perhaps, ironically, even need - to feel as though something in life *needed* her.  
  
Leaning over Sydney picked up the phone, not caring who would be screening the call. Even after being away for two years she remembered every digit of every phone number that mattered, and her fingers dialed them with ease. Sniffling away her tears and while she berated herself for being so ridiculous, she didn't dare hang up the phone. There was a chance she'd never be that courageous again.  
  
"Hello?" A voice answered after six agonizingly long rings.  
  
"Hey," she responded, already searching her drawers for a pair of socks.  
  
"Is everything okay?"  
  
"Yes . . . No . . . . I don't . . . I'm not sure," she confessed as she sat down on the bed and started to put on her socks. "Can you meet me?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, where?"  
  
"The warehouse? I can be there in fifteen minutes," she estimated, already traveling the route in her mind.  
  
"We can't meet there Syd," his voice was apologetic.  
  
"Why not?" She asked, panic rising in her heart. The ridiculous fear that it was where he now met with another asset had controlled her heart.  
  
"They tore it down, about a year and a half ago."  
  
"They tore it down?" She sat back down on the bed, the adrenaline she had just moments ago suddenly gone. They had torn down *their* warehouse? Didn't the city of Los Angeles realize how important that place was, she questioned. To an unknowledgeable outsider it was a run down building, an eyesore in a neighborhood that most preferred to ignore. However it had been her safe haven, the one place where she could look him in the eye, where she could speak without fear. Now it was gone.   
  
"What about the pier? I can meet you there, unless you'd rather not -"  
  
"Would you mind?" She asked softly. It was dark out, and she knew he had work the following morning. The last thing she imagined he'd want to do was go stand on a chilly pier at nearly eight at night with her, but he was her only option. Deep down she knew even if she had other options, she would have wanted it to be him.  
  
"No, Syd, of course not," he gently reassured her. "I can be there in about an hour, is that okay?"  
  
"That's good," she smiled. "Thank you," she whispered before hanging up the phone.  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered against the wind as he shook her head, silently indicating that she had nothing to be sorry for.  
  
"Here," he replied, handed her a Styrofoam coffee cup. Seconds later he found himself taking pleasure in the brief look of pleasant surprise that flashed across her face when she realized he had remembered how she took her coffee.  
  
"My Dad was over for dinner tonight - it was my Mom's idea, to have this big family dinner and stuff . . . which was fine. It was even sort of nice," she remembered with a small smile. "Then a little while ago I walked into the kitchen to find my parents *kissing* . . . I don't know," she shrugged. "It's not that I'm against them having a relationship, but seeing them . . . It just reminded me how much had changed. I've been back for a few days and nothing is the same. Everything is so different . . . Not only things with my parents but Will and Francie, the CIA, nothing is how I remember. I don't know if I belong anymore, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe I shouldn't even be looking to see if I belong, maybe -"  
  
"Sydney," he rested against the side rail, setting his free hand on the railing close to her. During their previous meetings at the pier he hadn't been able to look at her, but on that evening he found himself leaning against the railing, his back to the water and his eyes on her face. The lights from the Ferris wheel and fun in the distance lent a beautiful glow to her face, and he was relieved that she wasn't crying. "This is still your life," his tone was stern but gentle. "Regardless of how you feel right now, you still belong here, you still have a place . . . Maybe you need to look a bit harder to find it, but your niche is still here," he assured her before glancing briefly at the water. "Whether you believe this or not, your life has missed you," he said before looking down at his coffee. "I've missed you," he whispered the reminder before looking up to meet her eyes.   
  
Her brown eyes briefly met his, and he found himself nearly unable to read them. There was no doubting that she was pleased that he had missed her - and while he might not have been waiting for her in Los Angeles, he had missed her far more then he should have. When her hand leaned over to cover his, he found himself enjoying the feel of her cool hand on his too much for a married man. While his eyes glanced away, he flipped his hand over so his thumb could run over the top of her hand.   
  
They stayed silent for a wonderful, suspended moment in time, oblivious to the crowds passing them by. There had been no legitimate reason for her to call him; he was no longer her handler, she wasn't even sure if he handled anyone anymore. He hadn't hesitated once, and he didn't seem in a rush to leave. She had needed him, and he had come, just as he always had; even after two years apart it was the most consistent relationship she had ever known.  
  
"So," he looked up with a crooked smile on his face. "Your parents?" He questioned as she laughed.  
  
"My parents," she agreed as she took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"That's . . . That's weird," he decided, his grin growing wider as she responded with laughter.  
  
"Very weird," she nodded. In the dim light of night her eyes met his and smiled, gently squeezing his hand before looking back out at the water before them. "Did you know my Mom wears a wedding ring?" She looked at him as he met her eyes.  
  
"I remember your Father had some of the guys in the OGC figure out whether they were still married soon after she turned herself in. Is it possible they never officially divorced?"  
  
Looking back out at the water she shrugged her shoulders, allowing her hand to still rest in his. "With my parents anything is possible."  
  
"Don't you believe they'd tell you if they'd . . . Rekindled what they once had?"  
  
"I don't know," she shrugged again. "I've been thinking about it . . . Not about now, but about everything that happened . . . Growing up, my Father could just have well told me the truth, led me to hate my Mother. Instead he let me believe this lie, and while I am still upset that he kept it from me for a long time, don't you think it would have served him to tell me the truth? He could have led me to hate her, and while it's not any better that he let me adore someone who never really existed, don't you think it's unusual that he didn't try to poison me against her? Why wouldn't he do that, why wouldn't he make me hate her as much as he hated her?"  
  
"Because he loved you," he suggested quietly before meeting her eyes. "Maybe because, despite everything, he loved her too. If you believed the lie, he could believe the lie, and he could ignore the reality that his wife was a fraud. That the happiest years of his life were someone else's illusion," he spoke confidently before once again growing quiet. "Maybe he still loves her now."  
  
"How can he?" She asked, searching his eyes for answers she might never find. "How can he look at her and not hate her for all she did to him? She *lied* to him and then *abandoned* him!" She whispered harshly, the wind whipping her hair in every direction.  
  
"You still love her," he carefully pointed out.  
  
"That's different, she's my Mother!"  
  
Vaughn shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, briefly contemplating his next words. "My Mother used to tell us that the love between a husband and wife, if it's real, is very different then the love for child, with the exception of one basic principle - it never ends. You *always* love your children, no matter what they do and how much they hurt you, you always find it in your heart to love them . . . " He trailed off, momentarily lost in thought before finishing his dialogue. "In a marriage, a *real* marriage," he emphasized; trying not to recall how his Mother insisted that what he and Alice shared was not a real marriage. "It's the same thing. She hurt him, she deceived him, and in a way he hurt and deceived her too. Your Father is not objective when it comes to her, he never has been, and maybe he looks at her . . . Maybe he sees all the good that she wants to have, the parts of Laura that she wants to really be . . . Maybe he sees them and loves her for it. Hell, maybe he loves her more now because she's not his docile literature professor wife but someone who can challenge him and knows just as much about his line of work as he does."  
  
"I don't remember my Mother ever being docile," she smiled as he shot her a wry look. A few seconds later she was serious as she nodded, "I understand what your saying."  
  
"Syd . . . Your parents . . . They're *never* going to be what other people might consider normal. So what?" He shrugged. "The life that we lead . . . A CIA Agents life is, by definition, abnormal. Your parents have found what works for them. They probably hope that makes it *easier* for you, especially since your trying to assimilate yourself back into this world. This is *still* where you belong Syd, it might take sometime, but you cannot doubt that."  
  
"How can you still do that?" She asked, unable to quench the smile from her face.  
  
"Do what?" His eyebrows rose.  
  
"Make me feel better?"  
  
"I don't know, but it certainly wasn't in the handbook," he muttered as she laughed.  
  
"Francie and Will think I'm staying with my Father," she spoke up. "If you talk to Francie, that's what she thinks. I'm not sure if Will believes it or not, but she should," she explained. "Mom actually met Francie when I was gone," she remembered as he looked at her, patiently waiting for her to continue. "Dad took her to Francie's restaurant one night and she was there . . . I guess Dad implied that she was his girlfriend or something . . . " She shrugged. "Which I guess she is," she chuckled when she realized how correct she her simple analysis was. "My parents are dating," she looked at him.  
  
Michael's response was similar to hers, a chuckle and nod at the absurd reality of Jack and Irina's relationship. They shared a few minutes of laughing before he grew serious. "Syd, if you want to know exactly what's going on, you should talk to your parents about it. You're their daughter; you have a right to know a certain amount about their relationship. I'm not saying you have the right to know every little detail, but you do deserve the truth."  
  
Sydney let out a sigh and nodded. "My family is never going to be normal."  
  
"That doesn't have to be a bad thing," he gently reminded her. "Trust me Syd . . . Normal is . . . Highly overrated," he sighed when he thought back to his own on-going attempt at normalcy.   
  
"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I shouldn't be bothering you -"  
  
"Syd, you're not bothering me," he vowed. "It's not easy getting readjusted to a life you left. You've changed, the people in your life has changed . . . All I can tell you is that it *is* going to take some time, but don't stop trying. The Sydney Bristow I remember never gave up," he reminded her as her smile grew.  
  
"I'm not very good at defeat," she laughed.  
  
"Will and Francie's wedding should keep you busy, and I'm sure Francie is going to need all the help you can offer if she's going to keep running the restaurant and cater her own wedding."  
  
"She's insane, isn't she?" Sydney laughed. "Only Francie would try to cater her own wedding."  
  
"Catering the wedding herself was important to you, almost as important as making sure you were her maid of honor."  
  
A sober expression crossed her beautiful features as she nodded, accepting the full magnitude of his words. "She waited until I was able to be her maid of honor," she swallowed as he nodded.  
  
"They weren't going to get married unless you were there Syd. That's how much you *still* mean to both of them. You, Will and Francie are always going to be best friends, you're always going to be family. Obviously the dynamics have changed with Will and Francie's relationship, but it doesn't take away from what you share with both of them. They love you and you love them. People need you here Syd, not just Will and Francie but . . . But everyone," he faltered.   
  
Looking at him, he was delighted to see her smiling, "thank you," she whispered.  
  
His first response was to tell her it was his job, but that was no longer the case. Sydney Bristow hadn't been his job in two years, but her call had nonetheless sprung him into action. Deciding it was about time he tore his eyes away from her, at least briefly, he looked down at his watch. To his surprise it was quickly nearing ten at night.  
  
"What time is it?" She asked, sipping her coffee and still clinging to his hand.  
  
"9:57," he explained. Before she could respond, the echo of her beeper surrounded them. With hesitation she let go of his hand to read the number.   
  
"It's my parents," she sighed and realized that while they were never going to be Parents of the Year, Jack and Irina were most likely worried about where she was. "Remind me why I shouldn't throw this into the Pacific," she whispered.  
  
"I think one beeper into the ocean per lifetime is the limit," he teased as her dimples once again appeared. "You should get going, before your Father sends out a search team."  
  
"He would do that too, wouldn't he?" She chuckled as he nodded. "Thank you -"  
  
"Stop thanking me Sydney," he gently admonished. She nodded, trying to understand. She was no longer his asset; he wouldn't have come if he hadn't wanted to. "If you need me . . . You still have my number," he reminded her as her smile grew and she nodded.  
  
Sydney smiled and nodded at him one more time, cradling her coffee between her hands as she turned and walked in the direction of her car. 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Lightkeeper   
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)  
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com  
Story Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles.  
Disclaimer: Don't own Sydney or Vaughn (don't I wish I did?! Who doesn't?!) or Will or Francie, Jack, Irina, Amy, Danny Eric, Alice (does anyone actually want to claim her?) or Amy. I do own Sarah and Miss Harper, but go ahead and use them if you feel the need. Don't own the Yankees or Mets or LA Kings. No affiliation with George Steinbrenner or Robin Ventura or Derek Jeter (oh, can I have him *and* Vaughn?! Oh and don't forget Mike-the-UConn-benchwarmer!). Let's be real here, I don't own anyone. I'm having fun. If JJ wants to offer me a job, go head! I'd move to California! Don't sue me though, all you'll get is a lot of UConn, Yankees & Alias/X-files stuff that probably means very little to anyone but me. Oh, and lots of video tapes and books.  
  
A/N: UConn Men are no longer ranked sob - keep your fingers crossed they win tonight; Steinbrenner is not a nice man (who says mean things about my Derek?!! One day he'll be captain pretty pretty please); Spring Training has begun :) ; Trying Normal (my god you guys are persistant, seriously) was worked on *today* and should hopefully have a chapter up by the end of the week (IF I don't go away to Vermont tomorrow afternoon, in which case it'll be up next week; Vermont's still in the air, so I'm not sure); I love my Father but the man can infuriate me like no other on earth; There are reference to the Yankees & Mets here, they're not mandatory to understand, but amusing if you get them; I've never lost a child (I've never *kissed* a guy) and I did my best to handle the situation appropriately & how I thought the characters would. Alice is not meant to be the devil here, no one is, but I needed a reason for him to feel as though he was obligated to stay when his marriage was clearly in the toilet but at the same time I needed to feel comfortable when/if the time comes (I haven't written it yet so I don't know) to take him away from Alice and that was the only way to do it.   
**PLEASE** Read & Respond! Even if you hate it, please be constructive and tell me where I went wrong!   
  
Dedication: To Lainie. Thank you for your super-sweet words & encouragement!  
"Hey!" Sydney called out the following morning. Hesitantly she walked into the house she used to share with Francie, now the home Will and Francie shared. "Hello? Is anyone here?"   
  
"Why am I wearing heels?" Francie asked, walking into the room in obvious discomfort. Sydney laughed when she noticed Francie was walking around in the shoes she intended to be married in. "This isn't funny Syd! Everyone keeps saying that I should break the shoes in, but my feet are *killing* me!"  
  
"I think the point is to break them in now so they don't kill you then," she suggested as she sat down on the sofa. "Where's Will?"   
  
"He's at work. You know the only good thing about this job at the travel magazine is that we were able to get a really good deal on our honeymoon," she sighed as she pulled out a binder and sat down next to her friend.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"France," she smiled widely. "I've never been and it's going to be *so* romantic."  
  
Sydney smiled and nodded, remembering that the most romantic night of her life had taken place in France. Nice, to be exact, although she certainly hoped Will and Francie's evenings would end far more peacefully. "You're going to have a great time," she assured her.  
  
"I need your help so much though!" She sighed. "See, I still have to finalize seating arrangements," she showed as she flipped through the thick binder. "I need to pack . . . Will you help me practice my make up?" She asked as her friend nodded. "Hey, do you have a car because then you could pick up the cake for me!"  
  
"Sure, I'll pick up the cake," she smiled in agreement. "Your doing fine, everything is going to go wonderfully," she promised her friend.  
  
"I really don't know how I'd go through these last days without you Syd, I'm so glad your home."  
  
Leaning over to hug her friend, she nodded in agreement, "so am I."  
  
Francie certainly kept her busy in the days to come. They spent hours going over seating arrangements, placing it so members of Will's family sat with members of her family that they got along with. Together they went over Francie's make up half a dozen times, including a few failed attempts to mix colors and different shades on her best friends skin. Sydney was the one who made sure all of Francie's plans - including the honeymoon and her pre-wedding hairdressers appointment. As the week progressed they picked up the wedding dress, confirming plans with Francie's other attendants, and on Thursday, two days before the big day, Sydney picked up the wedding cake and delivered it to Francie's restaurant for safekeeping.  
  
Late Friday morning Will hurried to answer the door. He was busy packing his duffel bag, since his fiancée had insisted that they spend the night before their wedding apart. Pulling the door open, he smiled when he saw Sydney waiting there. "Hey Syd," he greeted her with a hug.  
  
"Hey, is Francie ready to go?" She asked, stepping inside the warm home. They were going to the hairdresser together, meeting Amy and Sarah, Francie's restaurant manager, who had promised to be there when they arrived.  
  
"I'm ready," Francie replied, smiling as she slung her jacket on and walked into the living room. Walking over to her fiancé, she smiled and kissed him, "I'm going to miss you."  
  
"I'm going to miss you too," he whispered as Sydney laughed and rolled her eyes.  
  
"You two will see each other in," she paused to glance at her watch. "Approximately six hours at the rehearsal!"   
  
Will shrugged and looked back at Francie, "love you," he whispered as they kissed one more time.  
  
"Okay, okay! I'm coming, let's go!" Francie agreed, laughing as the two girls walked out of the house.  
  
Sydney met Sarah that afternoon and instantly felt comfortable around her. The four women sat discussing weddings, work and life in general as they flipped through magazines and had their hair done. Francie was having the hairdresser come to the house the following day to do the finishing touches, but the four had fun nonetheless. Sydney hadn't seen Amy in years and listened to her complain about men, school and being a single woman in Los Angeles, something she knew more then a little bit about herself.  
  
That afternoon Michael finished tying his shoes and looked up as he heard the door to the bathroom opening. Alice slid out, still dressed in her previous nights bedclothes, scrutinizing him as he stood and slid on his jacket. "I promised Will I'd be at the church in a half hour. Do you want me to pick you up after the rehearsal and you can come to the dinner?" He offered. The truth was he would just as well prefer that Alice not attend the evening's festivities.  
  
"No thank you," she muttered as she slid back onto the bed and turned on the bedroom's television. "Have fun," she muttered as he stiffly kissed her cheek. Silently he grabbed his keys and walked out of the house, patting Donovan's head as he passed and disgusted at the relief he felt to be out of her presence.  
  
They were holding the wedding at a nondenominational church in the exclusive section of Los Angeles. Michael pushed the door open and stepped inside just as Francie was on the verge of realizing her entire wedding party was *not* present. Reading the look of panic on both Will and Sydney's faces, he was glad he hadn't waited another moment to leave the house. "Hey," Francie smiled and walked over to him. "I'm so glad your here!" She hugged him.  
  
"I'm sorry if I'm late," he apologized, shaking his head. Then he allowed his eyes to briefly linger on Sydney as she stood in the front of the church, quietly talking to the minister.   
  
"Your not late! C'mon, you have to meet Sydney!" Francie eagerly took his hand and lead him to the front of the church. Will stayed a few steps back, using his keen journalists eye to watch the scene unfold.Somehow, despite his logic, he doubted it was the first time they would have seen each other since her arrival. Knowing them as well as he did, he found it difficult to believe they could have stayed away from one another for so long.  
  
Michael remained silent as Francie dropped his hand and tapped her best friend's shoulder, drawing her attention from the minister. All he could do was politely smile and nod at Amy and Sarah, both whom he had seen at various social gatherings that Will and Francie had thrown. Bracing himself he turned and met Sydney's eyes, unable to stop the smile from his face.  
  
"Michael Vaughn, this is my best friend and maid of honor, Sydney Bristow. Syd, this is Will's best man," she explained before looking back at the tall man. "Syd's been in the Peace Corp the last couple of years. She's been teaching in Armenia!" She glowed in pride at her best friends accomplishments.  
  
"That's fabulous," he smiled and shook her hand, silently thrilled to see the giddy look cross her features. "It's nice to meet you."  
  
"It's great to meet you too," she commented, her smile growing even wider. Will stood back and shook his head, wondering what they had once again stumbled upon as Francie glowed. She had been right - they *were* perfect for each other, she silently awed.  
  
"We should get this started," Will spoke up while taking the opportunity to break the moment. There was no one who wanted Sydney happy more then him, but Michael was still a married man and *someone* had to remind them of that fact.  
  
The rehearsal went as smoothly as one could imagine. Over the rehearsal Sydney was relieved to watch Francie grow more and more comfortable with the next days events. That's when she wasn't doing her best to avoid looking into Vaughn's eyes, or even in his direction. In her mind she reasoned that she'd be meeting his wife in a few scant hours and it was best to sidestep the feelings she had so she could act pleasantly to Alice. She had done it once, and she would do it again.  
  
Will's family had rented out a beautiful historic mansion in the same Los Angeles neighborhood as the church for the reception. Sydney sat back and enjoyed watching Francie and Will's families intermingling. She could see how relieved her best friends were - their parents got along well, but not *too* well. The restaurant had done a fabulous job of catering the small reception, and Sydney enjoyed the food and conversation. That evening she was able to catch up with Amy but also Eric Weiss, who was one of Will's groomsmen and someone she hadn't seen since she left for Armenia. Later on Sydney even found herself talking to Mrs. Calfo about wedding dresses and her experiences over the past two years.  
  
Stars were already shining brightly over Los Angeles when she slipped out of the reception hall onto a small terrace overlooking a garden. Sitting down she was grateful to be out of the warm, busy room and by herself with her thoughts for a while. Avoiding Vaughn had been her prime objective for the evening, and it was turning out to be far more difficult then she imagined. Not once that evening had she looked at him, quite a feat when you recalled that he was the best man and she was the maid of honor. If he was there with Alice, which she fully suspected was the case, she would just assume avoid introductions. After several years she doubted Alice would still remember her as Rita from the State Department, but aside from worries about national security she knew she wanted to avoid seeing the one thing in life she wanted but would never have.  
  
Sinking farther back into the comfortable lounge chaise, she let her mind wander back over the past few days. With Francie and Will leaving on their honeymoon, she knew that she'd have time to spend with her Mother and to hit the Los Angeles pavement looking for employment. Surely her Mother would allow her to stay for as long as she wished, since their time together had been enjoyable for both, but she knew she needed a job and even wanted one. There'd still be time to spend with her a Mother. Despite all the anger and bitter feelings that had swarmed her soul after Irina Derevko turned herself into the CIA, she now looked forward to being with her Mother, doing things regular Mothers and Daughters did. Perhaps her Father would even come over for Sunday dinner.  
  
"You forgot this," a familiar male voice pointed out. Looking over her shoulder she was surprised to find Vaughn standing there, holding her wine glass out to her. Sydney wondered where her formerly finely tuned espionage skills had gone since she hadn't even heard the terrace door open and shut.  
  
"Thank you," she smiled and took it from him as he sat down in the only other chaise lounge on the terrace. Running her finger over the edge of the wine glass, her smile faded away. Looking over the gardens, she tried to decipher which flowers had been planted there while she felt his eyes on her face. Daring to look back at him, she rounded up the courage to do what had been nagging her mind since she had seen him again in the CIA building. Somehow she could battle a man twice her size without flinching, but having a heart to heart with Michael Vaughn had the power to terrify her.  
  
"I've wanted to tell you how sorry I am," she said in a low voice, grateful that he couldn't clearly meet her eyes in the darkness. "My Father . . . . He told me about Henry when I was in Armenia . . . . I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I know it's been seven months, but if there's anything I can do, for you or Alice . . . Well, I'm here," she trailed off awkwardly.  
  
Vaughn swallowed back his tears and wasn't surprised to hear that Jack had told her about his son. Henry Charles Vaughn, named after both his and Alice's late Fathers, had been born far too early and lived for only a few short hours. Alice's pregnancy had been difficult from the get go, whether because she was over thirty five or because of India's less then stellar medical care no one could be certain. Henry was going to be their new start, he had felt that their son's birth could help their marriage, but it was a futile thought. He was too early, too sick and lived less then one day in October. It was the worst day of his life. Not only did he lose his son, but he had also lost the woman he had thought he married.  
  
Even in the darkness she could see the dampness in his eyes. Searching for her voice she finally spoke, "are you alright?"   
  
The question bought a smile to his lips, baffling her. He could vividly remember the first time he met her. The accusatory look in her eyes - anyone and everyone could have been out to get her, and for a while everyone seemingly was. The stupidest thing he remembered asking was if she was all right, and the slight grimace that followed. When they had met the very last thing Sydney Bristow had been was all right, and now he was the one who was furthest from all right as anyone one person could be.   
  
"I will be," he assured her as best he could. His companion nodded. Of all the people on earth she would best understand that the one thing that was best for healing was the passage of time. "I wanted to ask you how you were doing," he turned the tables on her. He'd always been more comfortable in his role as her protector instead of the other way around. At the question in his eye he continued, "with your parents?"  
  
"It's going pretty good," she smiled and shrugged, taking a sip from her glass. "It's still weird," she confessed as they laughed. "You were right though. We're never going to be normal . . . Whatever that means," she looked down at her wine glass and sighed.   
  
"Are you okay with that? With things never being quite as you imagined?"  
  
"I think so," she smiled and met his eyes again. "I have my life back. I even have my family back, which is more then I expected. Will and Francie are together and happy . . . I've been thinking about what you said, and I do belong here, and I'm even sort of lucky," her dimples flared as he nodded. "That must sound ridiculous," she laughed self-consciously.   
  
"No, it makes sense."   
  
"Really?" She laughed, feeling better when he nodded. Seconds later she grew more serious and looked back at her wine glass. With another quick glance up at the stars, she allowed her eyes to drift back to him. Even with the light aging he had undergone since her departure, how she noticed that the laugh lines around his eyes had obviously gone through more use, along with his frown lines. Regardless of his aging, he was still beautiful and had the most amazing eyes she'd ever seen. "Where's Alice?"  
  
The question changed the air on the terrace, causing him to look down at his own glass, searching for courage. "She's not here," he explained. "I don't know if Francie mentioned it but . . . They really don't get along," he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and kept his eyes firmly planted to the ground. "Even if they did, I'm not sure she'd want to spend an evening out with me," his forced laughter sent a chill down her spine.   
  
Vaughn's self-deprecating comment left her briefly speechless. "Francie really seems to like you."  
  
"Yeah," he smiled. "She's a great person," he finally met her eyes as she nodded.  
  
"Did you know Will and Francie are going to France for their honeymoon?"  
  
"I did," he chuckled at her surprised expression. "They're going to stay at my Aunt and Uncle's place . . . It's not exactly the Ritz, but it's in a nice part of the country and they'll have all the privacy they could want. Plus my Aunt promised to stock up the kitchen before they left."  
  
"Aunt Trish's house?" She grinned as the surprised expression transferred to his face. He had mentioned his Aunt Trish only once, off-handedly, years ago. Nevertheless, Sydney remembered, just as he recalled every conversation they had and every little nugget of her life that she shared with him.  
  
"Aunt Trish's house," he nodded as she laughed. "Her only stipulation was that if Francie and Will spot any UFO's they have to take pictures for her, since it's supposedly peak time for UFO sightings," he eyebrows rose as they both laughed.  
  
"I thought your Aunt was more interested crop circles?" She asked as he laughed.  
  
"Oh, she's still interested crop circles, but someone in the nearest town claimed to have saw a UFO about a year ago and now my Aunt's hell-bent on seeing one too. She doesn't like to be outdone, especially when it comes to the paranormal."  
  
Sydney laughed and tried to imagine what his Aunt Trish must be like. "She sounds wonderful."  
  
"She is," he agreed before tearing his eyes away from her, afraid to look at her for too long. "In her own unique way, she is wonderful."   
  
Vaughn sat back in his seat and tried to imagine Sydney meeting his only Aunt. Somehow he could even imagine them getting along. Sydney would appreciate his Aunt, even with her passion for Wicca and the calendar of Witchcraft she kept on her desk. Trish would enjoy Sydney's company, glad that her nephew had finally strayed away from his usual taste in petite blondes. Although Trish was a petite blonde herself, she had warned Michael away from them for years, but to no avail. One quality he had inherited in vengeance from the Delorme side of his family was stubbornness.  
  
In contrast Alice hated Trish and Trish wasn't all that keen on Alice. One quality his Aunt and Mother shared was that they could both make you believe they liked you while in fact they despised you. It was that skill that led Alice to believe that Trish loved her even though in private all his wife could say were not-so-kind word about his eccentric Aunt. Trish had her faults, but he loved her and thought Alice would step up her effort to get along with his Aunt once they married, but so far no such effort had been made.  
  
"Where will your Aunt and Uncle be for Francie and Will's honeymoon?"  
  
"Paris. They go once or twice a year, and decided that May was as good of a time as any," he shrugged.   
  
"They'll all have a great time," Sydney commented.   
  
They remained in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sky darken and the stars brighten, both unwilling to acknowledge the occasional passing glance in the others direction. When he leaned forward in his seat, he instantly drew her attention. "Do you plan on staying?" He met her eyes and asked softly. "Here? In LA?"   
  
The painful truth was he wasn't sure how emotionally involved he could become if she had no intention of staying. Perhaps she had plans to rejoin the Peace Corps, or for all he knew she could so something bizarre like move to Connecticut or Maine to a life far removed from Los Angeles. The last thing he wanted was for her to leave again. Now that she was back he wanted to be in her life, regardless of how small a role she might cast him in.  
  
"Maybe not Los Angeles, my Mom found some listings in Sherman Oaks that look promising," she informed him as he let out a silent sigh of relief. "Know anyone looking to sell an apartment?" She teased.  
  
"I'll keep my ears open," he promised warmly.   
  
"How's Donovan?"  
  
A smile crossed his face at the mention at one of the few good things in his life. Donovan his overweight, far too intelligent and extremely loyal four-legged pal. "A few months ago I brought him to the vet and the vet very seriously sat him down and said 'Donovan, you need to lose a pound or two or else your going to exceed your weight limit', so I went out and I bought every expensive diet dog food and vitamin in the LA metro area," he explained, one eyebrow rose and a half smile on his face as he wove his story. "Now I'm watching him every day and we still go jogging together but I don't think Donovan knows how to lose weight, I don't think he had the necessary metabolism. Last week we went to get his booster shots - I swear the vet costs me more then my monthly car payment," he rolled his eyes as she laughed. "Anyway, they put him on the scale and not only has he not *lost* any weight, he's actually ten pounds heavier then he was at the last appointment."  
  
"Poor Donovan," Sydney managed to squeak out in the midst of her laughter. "I guess you just can't teach an old dog new tricks," she shrugged.  
  
Vaughn shook his head and chuckled, "tell me about it. He's a great dog though."  
  
"I've been thinking about getting a dog," she confessed and took a sip of her wine.  
  
"Really?" There was surprise evident on his features.  
  
"Really," she laughed and nodded. "It can't be until after I live on my own though. My Mom's not too keen on dogs, she's more of a cat person."  
  
"Somehow," he muttered with a raised eyebrow, "that doesn't surprise me."  
  
"There is something uniquely cat-like about my Mother, isn't there?" She realized as he nodded. "What am I talking about, getting an apartment and a dog . . . I don't even have a job," she shook her head and sighed. "I'm getting ahead of myself."  
  
"You'll get a job," he quickly assured her.   
  
"I've decided I want to teach high school," she confessed. "For the entire duration of graduate school I thought I wanted to be a university professor . . . Just like I thought my Mom was," she said softly as he nodded. "Now though . . . I can do more in a high school, I can reach more kids and do more then just give lectures and grade essays. I can *help* people. By college you either love literature or you hate it," she shrugged, "but in high school I can get them and help them love it."  
  
"Private or public?"  
  
"I don't care," she smiled with deep dimples. "I just want to teach."  
  
"I can barely remember two of my college professors but I remember any high school teacher I ever had - substitutes included."  
  
"No you don't," she teased as he nodded.  
  
"Oh yeah, especially the pretty ones," he cast her a long glance before looking down at his wine. "I even wanted to marry one teacher my sophomore year."  
  
"Oh no," she laughed as she waited for him to continue.  
  
"She was my sophomore typing teacher. Physically I thought she was attractive although she wasn't my type. Everyone loved her, the entire student body. She was only twenty four and at fifteen I didn't think that was an insurmountable gap," he chuckled. "We became friends. I probably could have learned how to type with my eyes closed in two weeks but I was determined *not* to learn so I could go after school for extra credit. She was a huge Mets fan and we would hang out and watch golf on television or baseball games. Of course there were other students in the room, but I didn't care," he shook his head at the memory. "You know I still e-mail her once in awhile, and my sister still threatens to tell her that she was the first woman I ever thought I loved."  
  
"So what became of this fabulous teacher?"  
  
"Same old story," he sighed fondly. "My freshman year of college she married the man she'd been dating since before she ever met me. She actually sent me pictures; they were the first things in my mailbox when I came back from Key West with a hangover. Needless to say I learned then to never open my mail hung over," he laughed. "Eventually I bounced back," he sighed as he remembered the woman he had met short months after receiving those pictures and subsequently married years later.   
  
At two pivotal times in his life Alice had been his rebound. Of course he'd never actually *had* Miss Harper, but in his mind they'd already been married with children. Deep in his mind he knew not only did he deserve better, but so did the young blonde who'd brought him back to his former taste in petite blondes, never mind that Miss Harper had been a tall brunette.   
  
"I was actually thinking about becoming a Coach too," she spoke up. "You know, maybe I could Coach cross country or track, I have plenty of experience," she smiled.  
  
"You could start a kickboxing club," he suggested as she laughed.  
  
"I don't want to have to explain that to a future employer."  
  
"Thought about the world of international banking?" He joked as a look of mock terror crossed her face.  
  
"*Never*! Any actual aspirations I had dealing with finance are long over!" She shook her head before growing serious. "So, will Alice be going with you tomorrow?" She questioned, instantly kicking herself for bringing up his wife. Neither one of them wanted to talk about it, but the martyr in her wouldn't let it rest.  
  
"I don't know," he looked away from her. The mere mention of Alice and he was unable to meet her eyes. "I don't think so, but I'm not sure."  
  
"Tomorrow should be wonderful though," she smiled as he nodded. Laughing she continued, "I still can't believe Will and Francie are getting married."  
  
"No one will tell me, what's the dress like?"  
  
"No," she shook her head with an impish grin. "A maid of honor never tells. I do promise that she'll look beautiful, Will has no reason to worry."  
  
"I think he's more worried about forgetting his vows then not approving of the dress," he chuckled. "Have you started sending out resumes for jobs?"  
  
"I just finished writing up my resume. Dad said I could come in next week and use his fax machine to send them," she shrugged as he made a mental note that she'd be in the building the next week.   
  
"The Kings have been horrible since you left," he muttered, as if the Kings misery had some correlation to her departure. In his mind they did, both caused him to be miserable.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah," he nodded. "They're not deep, and their main scorers keep getting banged up," he shook his head in digest. "It's really become painful to watch and it's embarrassing to admit being a fan."  
  
"All good teams have down years."  
  
"Even the Yankees?"   
  
Moving her eyes to her wine glass her dimples once again flared as she nodded. "Yes, even the Yankees."  
  
"Do you realize the Mets have taken twelve of their last eighteen meetings?"  
  
"I was wondering when you were going to bring that up."  
  
"Jeter's overrated."  
  
"Look what happened to Ventura when he came over from Shea!" She protested before laughing at their absurd conversation, the levity at which they could talk and the wonder that they had something to talk about outside of international espionage and national security.  
  
"When we win our World Series - and we *will* - it will be because we *earned* it not because Steinbrenner bought it."  
  
"We win ours too, it's not like he goes out and *buys* the World Series, they play!" She weakly pointed out.   
  
"That's a poor argument Syd," he chuckled.  
  
Before she could present a stronger case the terrace door slid open and Eric Weiss walked out. "Hey guys," he greeted, having caught up with Sydney earlier in the evening. "Sydney, Francie's getting ready to go and wants to know if you plan on going with her."  
  
"Yes, of course," she stood and looked at the men. "I'll see you both tomorrow."  
  
"We'll be there," Eric playfully shot back as Michael nodded.   
Although it was late when Sydney walked into her Mother's front door, she wasn't surprised to see Irina waiting up in the living room, attempting to look engrossed in another thick novel. Irina looked up, as her daughter walked in and smiled at her, "how was the rehearsal?"  
  
"It was fine," she smiled and sat down next to her Mother with a sigh. Setting her book down on the table she turned to face her daughter.  
  
"How's your friend holding up? Her name's Francie, right?" She questioned, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's knee.  
  
"Yes, Francie," she smiled and nodded. "She's doing fine. I'm supposed to be at the house at seven tomorrow to help her get ready," she explained. Leaning down she kicked off her shoes and scooted off of the coach.   
  
"Who else is in the wedding party?"   
  
"Well Sarah and Amy are going to be the maids of honor." As she spoke she grabbed a throw pillow and lay on the floor, resting her elbows and forearms on the pillow. "Sarah is the manager of Francie's restaurant and Amy's Will's sister."  
  
Irina nodded and bent over to brush hair off of her daughter's face. "The best man and groomsmen?" She asked and sat back comfortably.  
  
"Eric and Kevin are going to be his groomsmen. He works with Eric and then he's known Kevin since grade school."  
  
"And the best man?"  
  
Sighing she looked down at her hands and conceded something she suspected Irina knew all along. "Vaughn's his best man."  
  
"Interesting turn of events," she noted. "There was a time and place where I believed that Mr. Tippin was in love with you, and here he is best friends with his former rival."  
  
"Will and Vaughn were never rivals," Sydney dismissed the thought. Had they ever considered one another rivals? That was a question she'd never be able to ask. In her heart, however, there had never been any question. "I love him," she sighed, resting her chin on her folded hands. Glancing up at her Mother, she was surprised at the look of calm acceptance on Irina's face. She had nothing left to lose telling her Mother; if the CIA was listening, so be it. She fully suspected Irina's phone was tapped, so they already knew she'd been in contact with him. Sydney was no longer an employee of the CIA, and it wasn't as though she was going to act upon her feelings. "There's a very real chance I will never be with him . . . . I don't know if I can be with anyone else though."  
  
"You moved on after Danny," her Mother gently reminded her.   
  
Regaining her posture, she sat up and pushed hair behind her ear with a nod. "I did . . . I know I'm still young, but what I shared with Vaughn . . . Even what I didn't share with Vaughn," she whispered before returning to her regular voice. "It was so much more then I had with Danny. For the longest time I thought that maybe that was wrong . . . That I shouldn't have found something more special then what I had with Danny, but I did. Vaughn knows . . *Knew*," she regretfully corrected herself. "Every part of my life, he was there with me for some of the lowest points of my life . . . There's never going to be another man in my life like him."  
  
"There's no rule saying you can never have him," Irina smiled serenely.  
  
"Mom, he's married."  
  
"So?" She shrugged, her hair bouncing as she did so. "He'll get divorced."  
  
"Vaughn's not like that . . Not after everything he and Alice have been through. He's not going to leave her."  
  
"Yes, your right, Mr. Vaughn is an honorable man. "When it comes to love, however, even the mightiest have been known to fall."  
  
"I don't want to ruin his marriage, I want him to be happy."  
  
"Then don't ruin his marriage, but if you love him like you say you do, don't you dare give up your space in his life."  
  
"I get the impression that that's going to cause complications with Alice."  
  
"As long as Vaughn wants you in his life, then let Alice deal with her complications," Irina insisted.   
  
"Are you sure that's the right thing to do?" She asked. Deep inside her mind she was wondering if she had lost her mind; two years before she never would have been sitting in her *Mothers* living room asking for love advice. However with a less then a day until Francie and Will's wedding, she had very little choice but turn to the woman she so desperately sought a real relationship with.  
  
"Honestly?" She questioned softly as her daughter nodded. "No, Sydney, I'm not sure it's the right thing to do. I can tell you, however, if you walk away from his life without holding on to what you can have, you will regret it the rest of your life. You've gone through too much to add another regret to your list."  
  
"You know," she started, pausing to take a sip of the water her Mother had been drinking. "I actually thought my life would be easier once SD-6 was gone."  
  
"Well isn't it?"  
  
"Not really," she shrugged. "I had built up this fantasy of how my life would be after SD-6 that I completely ignored anything that went against my fantasy."  
  
Laying back down she once again rested her head on her chin. Once she was comfortable she gazed at her Mother and sighed. "I don't even know if he loves me."  
  
"Oh, Sydney," she sighed with a wistful smile.  
  
"He never said anything -" she softly protested.  
  
"He never needed to," Irina laughed as Sydney sat up straight. "Sweetheart it was obvious to me from the moment I met him that he loved you. That he was *in* love with you and had been for a long time. Some things . . . Some things don't *need* to be said, they're just implied. Love is one of those things," she smiled and shrugged.   
  
"I used to believe that maybe . . . . . He married Alice."  
  
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," she reminded her only to be met by Sydney's perplexed look. "Sweetheart, I haven't seen Agent Vaughn in several years . . . However, if I was forced to evaluate his actions, I'd have to say that they all lead back to you," she sat down across from her daughter and smiled. "You left Sydney. Both you and Agent Vaughn knew it was best, that you needed to give back for what you thought you had taken away. As trained professionals you both knew that it was best for your safety, but you still left. Men are foolish, and if Agent Vaughn has any flaws it's that he *is* a man. Not all, but many, believe that it's best to move past your feelings for someone instead of working through them. Alice was there. They had a history, one with far less pain and bumps in the road that what you two have. He's clearly miserable Sydney, and he's obviously been in love with you for years."  
  
Laughing she shook her head and looked at her Mother. "You should have been a relationship counselor Mom."  
  
"Maybe," Irina shrugged with a smile. "Maybe I just know my daughter."  
  
That comment rendered her speechless for a few moments. Contradictory thoughts and notions floated through her mind, nearly making her dizzy. Finally breaking the comfortable silence she looked up at her Mother and broke it with her quiet words. "What do I do now?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning you'll get up and go help your best friend prepare for making the biggest commitment of her life. You'll have fun because tomorrow your two best friends are getting married, and that's not something so wonderful that many people get to experience. Enjoy tomorrow Sydney, and don't avoid Agent Vaughn," she advised.  
  
"How did you -" she started to ask, rendered speechless and wondering how her Mother knew her tactic for the evening.  
  
"Don't avoid him Sydney, you'll only push him further away."  
  
"How can I be sure he even wants to see me?"  
  
"He always wants to see you," Irina corrected. "Just talk to him Sydney."  
  
"What if Alice is there tomorrow?"  
  
"She wasn't there tonight?"  
  
"No," she looked down at her hands. "Alice and Francie don't get along that well."  
  
"If she didn't make an appearance at the rehearsal I doubt she'll make one at the wedding. Even if she is, just speak to them. You were a spy for many years Sydney, and your an intelligent woman, you can handle this."  
  
"Can I borrow the car again tomorrow?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I'm sorry to keep taking the car, you've been stranded here -"  
  
"Nonsense Sydney. Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to a movie with your Father, he's picking me up and I have no need for the car. You're going to take the car, help your best friend through her wedding and then you'll have a lovely time at the reception."  
  
"Maybe we could do something together on Sunday."  
  
"That sounds lovely," Irina agreed. "Perhaps dinner with your Father again?"  
  
Not bothering to hesitate she nodded, "sure."  
  
"You should go to bed, you'll have to be up early to be at your friends house at seven," her Mother realized. "Are you getting ready there?"  
  
"Yes. My dress is there and so is everything else I need. I'd be getting up at the crack of dawn if I was going to get ready before then!"  
  
"What time is the ceremony?"  
  
"The wedding starts at eleven. I'm going to be the first one there; Amy and Sarah are going to come by later in the morning. Francie's Mom will be there to help too, but I'm going to have to make sure the luggage is at the reception and that everything is in order for the honeymoon. Plus Francie's restaurant is catering the wedding and I *know* she'll be too nervous to take care of that, so I think I'm going to be overseeing," she laughed.  
  
"Your friend is very ambitious to cater her own wedding."  
  
"At least she didn't do her own cake, that would have been a disaster," she commented, amused.   
  
"Do you have your speech ready?"  
  
"I'm on the fifth draft already. Every time I think I have it done I come up with something better to add or something to take away."  
  
"I'm sure Will and Francie will love whatever you say."  
  
"I hope so," she smiled. "Plus I have to make sure I have Francie's vows memorized so if she forgets them I can remind her."  
  
"You're all going to do fine, and the ceremony will be beautiful. When the photos come I'd love to see you in your gown."  
  
"Well I'll be wearing it home," she reminded her Mother. "I just hope it doesn't rain tomorrow."  
  
"It never rains in Los Angles," her Mother smiled. "Where are they going on their honeymoon?"  
  
"France," she explained. "They'll be gone for ten days."  
  
"Are they staying near Agent Vaughn's birthplace?"  
  
Sydney looked up at her Mother, amazed that she knew where he was born. Her question left her to once more question how much her Mother knew about her and those in her life. "They're staying at his Aunt's house."  
  
"It should be a fabulous time for them. We had our honeymoon in Greece and Italy and it was fabulous. Who knows, maybe you'll be an Aunt in a few months?"  
  
"I don't think it'll be that soon," she smiled, imagining Francie and Will bringing their own child into the world. Seconds later her mind filtered over to Vaughn, trying to imagine the pain he and Alice suffered when they lost Henry. Her formerly upbeat mood was now lackluster as she offered her Mother half a smile and stood. "I think I'm going to bed now. I'll leave you a note before I leave."  
  
"I should be up to see you off. Get some sleep Sydney, and sweet dreams," she called to her daughter as Sydney climbed the stairs and disappeared to her room. 


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Lightkeeper   
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)  
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com  
Story Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles.  
Disclaimer: Don't own Sydney or Vaughn (don't I wish I did?! Who doesn't?!) or Will or Francie, Jack, Irina, Amy, Danny Eric, Alice (does anyone actually want to claim her?) or Amy. I do own Sarah and Miss Harper, but go ahead and use them if you feel the need. Don't own the Yankees or Mets or LA Kings. No affiliation with George Steinbrenner or Robin Ventura or Derek Jeter (oh, can I have him *and* Vaughn?! Oh and don't forget Mike-the-UConn-benchwarmer!). Let's be real here, I don't own anyone. I'm having fun. If JJ wants to offer me a job, go head! I'd move to California! Don't sue me though, all you'll get is a lot of UConn, Yankees & Alias/X-files stuff that probably means very little to anyone but me. Oh, and lots of video tapes and books.  
  
A/N: UConn women beat ND! woohoo! Men play #10 ND tonight at ND, so keep your fingers crossed! OMG, Alias Sunday was GOOD! I'm in a rut with Trying Normal . . . If you feel like you have an idea, heck if you've written something and want to help me out feel free to e-mail me, because I know where I want to go with it but right now I'm in a rut to get there. Oh, and Heatwaves "Always & Forever" is Will & Francie's last dance song purely because it was *my* parents wedding song (now they're divorced but I have problems with reality and refuse to accept that 10yrs after the fact) and plan on using it as my last dance song :)   
**PLEASE** Read & Respond! Even if you hate it, please be constructive and tell me where I went wrong!   
  
Dedication: To USABride.com. Yes, I know it's a website, but they helped me plan Will & Francie's wedding!   
  
  
  
"Do you want coffee?" Sydney called into the bedroom as she stood in Francie's kitchen early the next morning.  
  
"No I don't want coffee," her best friend called back in a muffled voice through the door.  
  
"How about some toast? Or a bagel? You need to eat Fran. Brides have actually been known to faint during a wedding because they didn't eat."  
  
"That's reassuring," Francie muttered as she walked out. "Thanks for coming over so early Syd. How long was the drive from your Dad's?"  
  
"Ten minutes, it wasn't a big deal," she shrugged as she put two bagels in the toaster. "So how did you sleep?"  
  
"You know I actually slept remarkably well. I never thought I'd be able to but I was so exhausted after the party last night," she sat down at the counter and smiled at her friend. "You and Michael really seemed to hit it off."  
  
"Yeah," she said as she moved around the kitchen, unwilling to meet her best friends gaze. "He's a really great guy."  
  
"I know! His wife Alice . . . They haven't been married all that long and they've already been through a lot of crap, but she and I don't get along that well," she conceded. "Michael is *amazing* though. He and Will can spend hours talking about baseball and hockey. Really, it's ridiculous," she looked up at her best friend as they laughed. "He's French too Syd, he speaks it fluently. You should hear him! You know how much I love Will, but I swear I felt my knees wobble."  
  
"Seriously?" She laughed as Francie nodded.   
  
"Yeah. He does something with the State Department and did some consulting work with Will when he first started working at the travel magazine."  
  
"That's great," she agreed as she put a bagel in front of each of them.   
  
"Thanks for being here for me Syd."  
  
"Where else would I be? My two best friends are getting married, there's no way I'd miss this."  
  
"You're going to get married one day Syd, and I'll be forcing you to eat breakfast," she smiled. "You're going to be a beautiful bride one day Syd, I just know it, and whoever you marry will make you so happy."  
  
"Maybe," she shrugged. The problem was not so much in finding the right guy - although she could admit it to no one but her own Mother, she had found him - but the settling down, marrying and having a family part that was tricky. Truthfully Sydney had no desire for 'happily ever after', she'd settle for disagreements and falling into the toilet because he forgot to put the toilet seat down. She knew she'd be forced to spend the majority of her winter watching Kings games. She'd even sacrifice the occasional Yankees game to watch the Mets play instead.   
  
"Trust me, have I ever been wrong?" Francie asked as Sydney's eyes grew wide. "Okay, have I ever been wrong about important stuff?"  
  
"No," she laughed.   
  
"You could marry Michael," she casually suggested. Sydney's eyes widened while she nearly choked on her juice.  
  
"Francie, he's married. I saw the wedding band," she pointed out, leaving out that she'd met his wife and remembered her heart stopping years ago when she realized Alice was back in his life.   
  
"I hate to be a pessimist Syd," she sighed. "Especially since this is *my* wedding day, and I intend to be married to Will the rest of my life, but I wouldn't be surprised if Alice already filed the divorce papers."  
  
"Francie," she softly disapproved. "Just because you don't understand it or see something doesn't mean something's not there."  
  
"Give me a break Syd," she protested as she finished her breakfast. "I saw more of a connection between you and Michael in the moment you met then I've ever seen with Michael and Alice, and they've known each other since they were nineteen."  
  
"Nineteen? Really?" The words filtered out of her mouth before she could stop them, surprised at how long they'd known one another. There'd always been the assumption that they'd been together for a significant amount of time, but knowing that they had been together for all of their adult lives sent a tiny spark of guilt to her heart.  
  
"Yeah, it'd be romantic if they both weren't so miserable." Francie placed her plate in the sink and turned towards Sydney, "I don't want to think about them, it makes me depressed."  
  
"Because their marriage is miserable?"  
  
"No because Alice makes me miserable. Alice makes *everyone* miserable." Sydney remained silent as she finished her bagel. "Do you want the shower?"  
  
"No, I'm all set," she assured her.  
  
"My Mom should be here soon, just let her in for me, okay?"  
  
"Go enjoy your shower. Take a bath!" She loudly suggested as her friend walked out of the room towards the bathroom.  
  
Francie's Mother arrived shortly after she finished her shower. While Mrs. Calfo began helping her daughter Sydney snuck away to change and put on her own make up in her former bedroom. By the time she came back out Lia was there working on Francie's hair. Walking into the bedroom Sydney was relieved to her best friend calm for the first time in days, and sat down for a few minutes to listen to Mrs. Calfo recall her own wedding day.  
  
"How do I look?" Francie asked as Sydney walked back in the house, having just established that the luggage was in the limo and would be safely arriving at the reception hall with its owner.  
  
"Oh Francie," she sighed with a smile. Her best friend looked absolutely breathtaking in her strapless white ball gown made from silk satin-faced organza that included an elegant train of a tasteful length. To top it all off her make up had been perfectly applied by Sydney's own hands and her hair pulled back off of her face and slightly curled. Resting on her thick mane of hair was a white two-tier veil with a satin trim held snugly in place by a silver comb.   
  
"You look so pretty," Francie smiled as they hugged.  
  
"I'll go see if Amy and Sarah need any help," Mrs. Calfo said softly as she walked out of the room.   
  
"I can't believe I'm getting married."  
  
"You two are going to be so happy."  
  
"Oh!" She hissed as she walked towards her closet. "I'm so glad I decided to wear in these shoes or else I'd have blisters the size of Texas before today was over," she confessed as Sydney nodded. Opening her closet she turned around and handed Sydney a wrapped box. "I didn't get a chance to give you your gift yesterday, so here."  
  
"Francie, you didn't have to -"  
  
"I wanted to," she cut her off as Sydney slowly unwrapped the gift. Pulling out a clothing box she took off the top to reveal a simply beautiful and comfortable looking set of blue silk pajamas. "They reminded me of that set you saw in college but would never let me get you. I even had it monogrammed."  
  
"Oh Francie . . They're beautiful, thank you," she stood and hugged her again.   
  
"I have to stop crying," she muttered, pulling out another tissue as they both laughed. "I have something else for you," she sniffled and opened her nightstand drawer. "You just can't use it until I get home," she pulled out an envelope and handed it to a baffled Sydney. Softly she muttered her thanks and then smiled when she pulled out a gift certificate for a beauty day at the spa. "Promise me we'll go together when I get back."  
  
"I can't wait," she smiled and they once again embraced.   
  
"How many times can we hug today?" Francie laughed.  
  
"A lot," she responded and placed the gift certificate in her purse.  
  
"You're still going to give the speech tonight, right?"  
  
"Of course," she nodded.  
  
"Have you mailed the announcements?"  
  
"Stopped by the mailbox on my way here this morning," she confirmed.  
  
"Your going to collect all the gifts and money that people bring to the hotel, right? And tomorrow you won't forget to pick up my things from the hotel room or bring my dress to the cleaners -"  
  
"I'll remember everything," she smiled. "I'll remember your belongings and the cleaners and I'll even remember to bring the cameras to be developed."  
  
"Thank you Syd, I'm so glad your here," she sighed.  
  
"Francie?" Mrs. Calfo knocked on the door and stuck her head in. "Your Father's here, would it be okay if we came in?"  
  
Looking at her best friend, Sydney nodded and hugged her again. "Sure Mom," Francie agreed as Sydney smiled at her friend's Mother and slipped into the living room.  
  
"Good, your both here," she sighed when she found Amy and Sarah.   
  
"We're going in your car, right?" Sarah asked her seconds before Sydney could nod.  
  
"You two both look wonderful," Sydney smiled, grateful that they had their hair done nicely and make up applied appropriately. "The bouquets arrived a little while ago, Mrs. Calfo bought them," she explained as she led them into the kitchen.   
  
"They're beautiful," Amy sighed as Sydney set aside the three attendants bouquets.  
  
"Are you girls ready to go?" Mrs. Calfo stepped into the kitchen and took her daughter's bouquet.  
  
"Is Francie ready?"  
  
"As soon as I give her the bouquet she, her Father and I will be leaving."  
  
"Then I guess we better go," Sydney hugged the mother of the bride and mentally checked to insure she had everything necessary. "We'll see you at the church."  
  
"Drive safely!" She called after the three younger women as they walked out.  
  
The drive from the house to the church went as she planned it. Sydney dished out certain responsibilities to the two other girls as she drove them, making sure no one had any questions and everything was in order. The guest's cars were already in the church parking lot as she searched for a close spot. When she finally pulled into a distant parking space she was glad that her own heels were comfortably worn in or else she'd have the Texas-sized blisters that Francie had earlier spoken of.  
  
Carrying their bouquets the three women went to stand outside the church doors to wait for the bride. While they waited, Sydney was glad to see the 1941 white Packard limo that she knew Will and his parents had arrived in. Regardless of her common sense she also looked around and was relieved to see Vaughn's car already parked. Everyone was in place, and the wait for the bride was a short one. The white limo pulled to the sidewalk shortly after they arrived, and Francie got out holding her parents close.  
  
"Ready?" Sydney met her at the entrance as she smiled and nodded.   
  
"You look perfect," Amy chimed softly as Sarah held the church door open, allowing them entrance into the vestibule. Standing behind her best friend Sydney knelt down to fix her train, insuring that it was perfect for her trip down the altar. Adjusting her posture she walked around and smiled at her friend, pulling her close.  
  
"I love you," Francie whispered.  
  
"I love you too," Sydney pulled back.   
  
"It's time," Mrs. Calfo reminded the girls. Using her eyes Sydney insured that everything was in place before she got in line behind the ring bearer and flower girl. Francie waved at her Mother and took her Father's arm, watching as Francie's cousin led Mrs. Calfo to her seat.  
  
The doors of the church opened as the organist played a soft backdrop. Sarah was the first to go down the aisle, stepping into the church as cameras flashed and people stood watching. At the cue of the wedding coordinator Amy was the next to go, smiling sweetly at her brother. Slowly the young flower girl and ring bearer followed, the flower girl earning soft, sweet comments as she tossed her rose petals. Sucking in a deep breath Sydney stepped in and looked straight ahead. One thing she'd never been fond of was camera flash. Looking at the end of the aisle she found her eyes locking with Vaughn's, as unlikely or wrong as it may have been. Brown mixed with green until she was at her traditional spot waiting for Francie at the front of the church.   
  
Seconds later, under the cue of Wagner's traditional Bridal March, Francie appeared on her Father's arm. With a smile bright enough to light the Los Angeles night sky she slowly walked to meet her future. Cameras flashed and all eyes were on the blushing, beautiful bride. At the end of the aisle Francie hugged her Father tightly and kissed his cheek before Mr. Calfo shook hands with the man he would trust to take care of his only daughter.  
  
The minister began the ceremony, thanking everyone for attending the wedding. She half listened as he began to speak, instead allowing her eyes to look around until they once again met the one man she desperately wanted to avoid. Sensing her discomfort he sent her a small twitch of his lips, which blossomed into a full grin seconds later when she responded with her own sweet smile.   
  
Francie and Will chose beautiful readings for there ceremony. Will's Aunt read Shakespeare Sonnet 116 and during a particularly nostalgic moment Francie's eight year old niece read Robert Louis Stevenson's "It Is the Season" from "A Child's Garden of Verses and Underwood's". Regardless of her repeated attempts to pull her eyes away from his, she allowed herself to drown in deep green as eight-year-old Angelica read the sixth stanza of Stevenson's poem.  
  
"And he to her a hero is,  
  
And sweeter she then primroses  
  
Their common silence far dearer  
  
Than nightingale and mavis are."  
  
Tearing her eyes away she glanced down at the bouquet of flowers she carried. The hand tied ivory flowers that the attendants carried beautifully matched Francie's cascading bouquet of lilies. Her fingers crisscrossed as she held her flowers and she watched the light bounce off of Will's gold wedding band from it's resting place on her thumb. Using her other thumb she twirled it, half listening to the last reading before regaining her posture for the vows.  
  
They fell back upon tradition despite writing their own vows and as a result Will was to go first. Sydney smiled widely as she watched Will's blue eyes sparkle as he took in his bride. Glancing across her brown eyes locked with the green of her male counterpart as Will's voice broke through her thoughts. "I take you Francie to be my wedded wife. I promise to be faithful to you, to give and to receive, to care and console, to inspire and respond, loving you now but even more in your growing and becoming. I will love you when we are together and when we are apart, when life is peaceful and in disorder, when I am proud of you and when I am disappointed in you, in times of leisure and of work. I will honor goals and dreams, and help you to realize them. I will be open and honest with you and join with you in fulfilling our lives together."  
  
Sydney instinctively reached down and discreetly slipped a tissue into Francie's hand. She was absolutely certain that after those vows she was tearing up. Even though they weren't even directed at her, she found herself nearly tearing up at the beauty and magnitude of what Will had just pledged. Once her eyes were dry Francie's shoulders squared as she began her own vows.  
  
"I Francie promise to love and cherish you Will, to give you my strength, to help you in good times and in bad, to respect our individuality, to make our home one of understanding. I give you all of my trust, all of my tomorrows, all of my life," she concluded. A smile broke across Sydney's face as she blinked away the tears. Seconds later her best friend met her gaze, smiling warmly at her through teary eyes as she gave her the bouquet to hold during the exchange of rings.  
  
Will accepted a gold band from Michael before turning and taking his fiancée's hand. Smiling widely and looking into her glassy eyes he began, "I give this ring in token and in pledge of my constant faith and abiding love, with all that I am and all that I will become." Concluding his soft words he slipped the ring onto her left ring finger with ease.  
  
During Will's vows Sydney slipped his gold band off of her thumb and handed it to Francie on cue. She carefully held on to his larger hand and repeated the words he had just spoken with her soft, respectful approach. "I give this ring in token and in pledge of my constant faith and abiding love, with all that I am and all that I will become."  
  
Sydney didn't notice Francie's slight struggle to slip the ring up his finger and Will's chuckled response. By then she was too far gone in a certain CIA Agent's eyes and the impact of vows and promises she was nearly sure she'd never get the chance to say. If the minister hadn't needed to clear his throat to speak, she wasn't sure how long she could have stayed there lost in his eyes. For many years she wondered how long she could remain there without getting bored, and never once had she been given the opportunity to find out.  
  
"Ladies and gentleman it is my greatest pleasure to present to you the new Mr. and Mrs. William Tippin! You may kiss your bride!" He declared as the church exploded in applause and the newlyweds shared their first married kiss.  
  
Francie eagerly took Will's arm and began the trek down the aisle. Sydney smiled as she gently nudged the young flower girl forward and prompted her to make the journey down with the ring bearer. Once the youngest members of the party were in order she knew it was time for the moment she was dreading. Smiling at him she took his arm, well aware of her duty as the maid of honor to walk down the aisle on his arm. When he smiled down at her and proceeded to walk she was left to wonder if this was the one and only opportunity to walk down an aisle with him. Shaking her head slightly she willed the thoughts to stop as they reached the back of the church.  
  
Aside from hugs of congratulations there wasn't much time from the dismissal of the ceremony until the receiving line. Within minutes she was standing in the receiving line squished comfortably between Will and Michael along with Francie, Mr. and Mrs. Tippin and Mr. and Mrs. Calfo. A smile was pasted on her face as she hugged and kissed people she didn't know or had forgotten she ever met all while thanking them for coming. The California sun smiled down on them as they stood out there, allowing Francie and Will at least one opportunity to speak to the eighty or so guests that were at the ceremony and would be at the subsequent reception.  
  
Once the reception line was over the wedding coordinator led the wedding party and the parents over to the adjoining garden for photographs. Before the snapshots were taken she lived up to her role as Maid of Honor by smiling and cheerfully telling her best friend how beautiful she looked and how fabulous the ceremony had been while she did touch ups to her make up and readjusted her hair and veil. Sydney also made certain that both Amy and Sarah had their correct bouquets before she smiled widely for the dozens of photographs that the photographer insisted upon taking.  
  
When it came time for just Will and Francie to be photographed she pulled the bridesmaids aside. Since she had known Amy longer she entrusted her with the keys to her Mother's car and the job of making sure both of them got to the reception. Before she left them to meet Will, Francie and Vaughn at the limo she also reminded them to help guests find their seats and take care of the presents before she got there. After she hugged the two of them she walked towards the limo and wondered when she became such a mother hen.  
  
Following tradition in her job as maid of honor Sydney got into the limo with Vaughn, Francie and Will to ride to the reception at the Ritz Carlton in Pasadena. As the driver shut the door Francie let out a heavy, almost comical sigh and tossed her head back. "You can breathe Fran," Sydney lightly teased as her best friend laughed, instantly letting her tension out.  
  
"Hey, the scary parts over, right?" Francie looked at her best friend.  
  
"Scary? Marrying me was scary?" Will took her head and jostled her.  
  
"Memorizing my most personal, important thoughts and having to say in front of eighty people was scary," she amended as they shared a quick kiss. Moving her eyes to the side Sydney smiled at Vaughn, who was sitting next to her and across from the newlyweds.  
  
"Thank you guys," Will said, drawing two sets of eyes to him. "I know the day isn't over, but thanks for everything you've already done."  
  
"It was nothing," they said together as Francie laughed.   
  
"You had a beautiful day for it," Sydney commented as she squinted out the tinted windows to look outside. "It's not too warm either."  
  
"I can't believe I'm married," Francie sighed with a deliriously happy smile. Putting up her hand she showed it to Sydney and smiled widely, "see! Two rings!"   
  
Laughing she nodded, "I see."  
  
"Hey, you two disappeared for awhile last night," she remembered as she looked at her maid of honor and her husband's best man. "Mike didn't I tell you how great Syd is?"  
  
"Yeah," he smiled and adjusted himself in an effort to rid himself of his discomfort.  
  
"Well, what did you guys talk about?" Now that most of her nerves were gone she was once again eager to know every detail of her best friend's nearly non-existent love life.  
  
They glanced quickly at one another and then at Sydney. To tell the entire truth would divulge that their relationship was far deeper and far longer then Francie could imagine. Instead she answered with one of their more frivolous topics of conversation, "the Kings."  
  
"I told you Syd, they're obsessed!"  
  
"Passionate!" Vaughn and Will corrected.  
  
Sydney looked at Francie before they both began to laugh. "You should listen to them talk about sports first thing in the morning," Francie explained. "They sit there and they'll literally debate baseballs National League versus the American League."  
  
"Go Texas Rangers," Will muttered.  
  
"You realize that's pathetic, right?" Vaughn shot back.  
  
"The Mets are hopeless!"  
  
"And the Rangers are going to go bankrupt because of A-Rod!"   
  
Shaking her head Francie looked at her best friend and laughed, "see my point?"  
  
The limo pulled into the Ritz Carlton as the drive got out and helped them all out. Sydney smiled and hugged her best friends before the group separated; Vaughn and Sydney entering the reception hall while Francie and Will prepared for introductions. Inside the reception hall she was relieved to see that employees from Francie's restaurant had arrived and Sarah appeared to be overseeing that while Amy smiled and waved before she returned to helping Francie's grandmother find her seat. "I'll agree with one thing Syd," Vaughn spoke lowly near her ear, nearly causing her to jump from her skin as she surveyed the reception hall.  
  
"What's that?" She whispered, still not turning around to meet his eyes.  
  
"I'd root for the Yankees over the Rangers any day," he conceded. A low laugh escaped her before his warm hand was on her shoulder; giving it a squeeze so light she thought she'd perhaps imagined it. Then he seemed to disappear into the bustle and chaos.  
  
The wait wasn't long until it was time to applaud the newly arrived and newly married Mr. and Mrs. William and Francine Tippin. Sydney was delighted by their huge smiles and how genuinely happy they appeared to be around each other. Shortly after their arrival the DJ announced it was their first dance. Searching the crowd she hoped Vaughn would soon appear, knowing that they would soon be expected to join Will and Francie on the dance floor.  
  
Stepping back she smiled as the opening chords of a Don Henley song hugged the room. Before the words even began she recognized it as his hit "Taking You Home" and smiled at the selection her best friends had chosen to begin their married life. Sydney found herself so wrapped up in watching Will and Francie seem to effortlessly glide across the floor that she didn't notice the man she had been searching for appear by her side. It wasn't until he placed a gentle hand to the small of her back that she looked to her side and smiled at him.  
  
Twitching his head towards the dance floor he smiled at her, "I think this is our cue."  
  
Smiling at him she allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor and comfortably into his arms. One hand was folded in his while the other one rested on his shoulder, looking around at the guests rather then into his eyes. "Ready for your toast?" He whispered near her ear.  
  
"I finished my sixth draft last night," she conceded to meeting his eyes and was unable to stop her smile. "I'm as prepared as I can be."  
  
"I'm sure it's great," he smiled warmly.   
  
"I love this song," she sighed. "They're leaving for France tonight, right?"  
  
"The limo has been instructed to take them directly to the airport," he agreed.   
  
"What about your speech?" She remembered. "Are you ready? I was an English major, I don't think you have that advantage," she teased as his grin grew.  
  
"I'll hold my own," he assured her. Glancing quickly at Will and Francie he once again locked eyes with the woman in his arms. It had been far too long since he'd had the opportunity to just look over and look at her, and it wasn't a chance he was about to let go to waste. "How long until there's baby Tippin?"  
  
"Year, year and a half," she estimated. "And once Francie gets baby fever, the world should watch out. I can already see her making everything in the restaurant fit into the baby theme," she chuckled.  
  
"The real question is how many nights a week will they rope Aunt Sydney into babysitting while they run the restaurant?"  
  
"Oh," she sighed with a smile, "probably every night. I'll do anything for babies."  
  
"Really?" The surprise was evident as she nodded.  
  
"Yes. I babysat nearly every weekend from the time I was nine as a Mother's helper until I started at . . . The bank," she caught herself as he nodded. The Alliance was still a not so distant painful memory, and she was a firm believer that you could never be too cautious.   
  
Before he could let his common sense and the implication of his next question settle on his brain, he opened his mouth and asked, "do you want kids?"  
  
Her smile grew wider, the dimples far deeper then he could ever recall. "I want a ton of kids," she confessed. "I know it's so *not* what I spent most of my life doing . . . I love being around kids, taking care of them . . . And regardless of what happened after Mom . . . left," she whispered, knowing only he would hear her. "For the first six years of my life I had everything I could want, I was so happy . . . I like to think that those were the happiest years of my parents lives too," she explained. "To answer your question, yes, I want kids."  
  
Part of him was surprised at her desire for domestication, while another part of him wasn't. He couldn't come up with anything he wouldn't give to be able to crawl into her skin and see how she imagined it, to see what she so desperately wanted. More then that, he'd sell his soul to be able to give her what she sought.   
  
"Tell me about it," he whispered as she looked up at him.   
  
Sighing since she knew answering his soft demands would mean leaving out the essentials. Mainly that he had a starring role in her future dreams for the past several years. Even if she left him out she suspected he would be surprised at what her imagination conjured up. Not even her fantasies were perfection; she liked the flaws in her mind that made it seem even more real. The piles of laundry in the bedrooms proof of her perennial distain for laundry. He'd work long hours that she hated, but silently understood given the nature of the job she herself had once held. Even in her mind she was far from the perfect wife. Aside from hating laundry, she'd be known to burn the occasional dinner or cookies and forget to send in permission slips on time. Donovan would even have his own bad days, she'd imagine walking in the house from a long day at school to find he'd eaten her new sneakers. She wasn't seeking perfection, just happiness and her own generic brand of normalcy.   
  
Regardless of the flaws, her fantasies had been wonderful. Richly textured she had imagined everything from the flowers she'd carry down the aisle to the color of the siding in the tiny house they'd buy. Donovan would sleep at their feet at night and he'd get up in the mornings before her, always ensuring that coffee was already perked when she woke up. They went to church on Sundays - something she had *never* done as a child. When their children came along - she saw three of them, all with green eyes and dimpled chins - she even taught Sunday school while he coached little league. Their eldest and youngest were girls, with a little boy stuffed in between two loving sisters. All had their mischievous streaks, and between the three of them the refrigerator was always covered in artwork.   
  
"Syd?" He gently squeezed her hand as she shook her head and smiled.  
  
"Three," she softly squeaked. "Two girls and a boy."  
  
"It sounds great," he smiled as the song came to an end. "Speech time," he remembered as he let her go. Given the nature of what was about to happen, she had no option other then to quietly smile at him and wait as he obtained his wine glass and a fork. Standing slightly off to the side, she watched as he stepped up to the microphone at the front of the room. Raising his glass slightly, he used the fork to grab everyone's attention, flashing his bright albeit professional smile when all eyes were on him.   
  
"Mignon McLaughlin once said that 'a successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person'. Through my friendship with Will and Francie I've been given the pleasure of seeing both of them fall in love with each other for the first time, and to continue to fall in love over and over again. An experience like that is not one to be overlooked, and there aren't two better people I could imagine this for. I'd like to thank the Mr. and Mrs. Calfo for this fabulous day and to Will and Francie for inviting all of us to share in this day with you. For those who don't know I'm Michael Vaughn, I've worked with Will and I'm the best man. I remember the first time I actually saw them fall in love with one another again, right in front of me. I was having breakfast with Will one morning and he and Francie had just had an argument. Halfway through his rant Will starts talking about how much he loves Francie, how he loves all these qualities and things about her that she either doesn't notice or really doesn't like. Little did he realize that she walked in five seconds after he started. The look on her face . . . and the look of embarrassment on his when he realized that she'd been there all along," he chuckled and shook his head at the memory. "It was beautiful though," he soberly continued. Sydney smiled sadly, berating herself for how much she had obviously missed out on. Not only did she miss out on things in Francie and Will's lives, but also in every aspect of her former existence. "Seeing them in that moment, how they looked at one another and how all was forgiven and forgotten . . . I know they'll continue to fall in love with one another for the rest of their lives. Best of luck," he smiled and toasted his glass as the rest of the crowd did the same.  
  
Turning around he smiled softly at her, a smile that finally reached his beautiful eyes, as he moved aside to allow her the spotlight. "Good evening," she smiled and stepped up to the microphone. "I'd like to extend a warm thank you to Mr. and Mrs. Calfo and of course the newly christened Mr. and Mrs. Will Tippin for including all of us in this fabulous day," she let out soft sigh and brushed hair out of her face. Knocking the world's finest hit men senseless was no problem, but giving a speech in front of eighty left her nauseous. Her back grew warm as she felt Vaughn step closer to her, nearly willing his calm posture into her. Taking a deep breath she continued with a smile. "This is an amazing day for me. Will and Francie have been my best friends for my entire adult life. I was actually there when they met. It was at a library at UCLA. Both Francie and Will had wanted the last copy of the newest Stephen King book and they ended up fighting about it in the middle of the library. Not a small fight, but a major blow out - I thought the librarian was going to call the campus police!" She recalled through her laughter. At their seats Francie and Will were giving her the desired effect. "Eventually they agreed that Will was chivalrous enough to let Francie read the book first and then they'd meet at the library in a week to exchange. They've been friends ever since, and I think that's probably one of the very few fights they've ever had . . . Will and Francie are both incredible people on their own, and when you put them together they make an unstoppable unit. They're funny and intelligent, generous and forgiving. George Elliot once wrote that 'what greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined...to strengthen each other...to be at one with each other in silent unspeakable memories'. Will and Francie have been joined from the first day they met, first as the best of friends and confidantes and then realizing that they were meant to be together. They make each other and those around them better without even trying," she smiled and shrugged. "What more could you ask for? Congratulations, and I am so happy for you both and the happy life I know you'll share," her warm smile grew as she directed it towards her closest friends. Raising her glass she spoke, "to Will and Francie!" and took a small sip.  
  
Turning around she was relieved to meet his eyes as he smiled proudly at her, a smile reminiscent of the ones he'd give her after a mission well done. He remained silent as he shook his head and began to lead her over towards their seats at the head table. "What?" She asked softly, confused by his behavior.  
  
"Your speech was better," he smiled as she shook her head.  
  
"Yours was great!" She protested.  
  
"It's okay Syd, your the English major, you won," he conceded as she laughed. Smiling at him she walked away from him, taking her seat at the head table between Francie and Eric. A minute after they were seated dinner was served. Between the two of them Will and Francie had chosen their favorite parts of the restaurant's menu and the staff had taken extra precautions in preparing them to perfection. As she at her dinner she listened to Will and Francie recount some of the more memorable moments of their relationship, tracing the ups and downs and when each knew that the relationship they were in was the one they wanted for the rest of their lives.   
  
Once everyone was finished eating dinner Will led Francie over to make the first cut into their wedding cake. They looked up together and smiled widely as people clapped and the photographer continued to work. Very carefully they each took a square of cake with a fork and placed it in one another's mouth, feeding each other as their guests cheered. Then the restaurant employees went about the business of cutting the cake, saving the top tier for traditionally sentimental reasons, and seeing to it that every guest had a slice.  
  
Although Vaughn was unable to speak to Sydney in the hours that passed, the wedding reception was fun and beautiful. Francie shared her dance with her Father followed by Mrs. Tippin being led around the dance floor by her only son. While he was certain that she was single, Vaughn noticed that his former asset made no effort to partake in Francie's bouquet toss, instead happy to stand by and watch Amy catch it. That was followed by the garter toss, which one of Will's friends from college caught. Then the evening wrapped up their last dance, Heatwaves "Always and Forever", around five in the evening.  
  
He walked back into the reception hall at the Ritz shortly after Will and Francie departed for the airport. Walking in he was pleasantly surprised to see that Sydney was among the few people left in the reception hall. The last time he had seen her she was disappearing to a room at the hotel with Francie to help her best friend change before they departed. Stepping slowly she watched her finish up talking to the DJ and the manager from Francie's restaurant, looking entirely beautiful and overwhelmed.  
  
"Hey," he stepped up to her side.  
  
"Hi," she smiled.  
  
"Do you need help? You've got a lot there," he chuckled. Sydney carried two garment bags and half a dozen plastic storage bags that were full of one-use cameras. Apparently being a maid of honor was more work then being a best man.  
  
"Would you mind? I used valet parking but this is really heavy," she sighed. The truth was that she was more then capable of doing it on her own, but if he offered his time and help she knew better then to turn it down.  
  
"What is this?" He asked, taking the garment bags from her as they began to walk out.  
  
"That's Francie's wedding dress and other odds and ends. I have to drop the dress off at the cleaners tomorrow and get the cameras developed too," she remembered. "I guess I'll be busy tomorrow," she chuckled, handing the ticket to the valet and waiting for her car to appear.  
  
"Are you having dinner again with your Father?"  
  
"Two family dinners in as many weeks, I think we're setting a new record," she muttered as he laughed.   
  
"Here you are Miss Bristow," the valet appeared, handing her the car keys. Before she could make a move Vaughn slipped a tip into his hand and he walked away.   
  
"Thanks," she whispered as he put the garment bags carefully into the backseat.   
  
"Do you want me to drop the cameras off tomorrow?"  
  
"I've got it," she insisted.   
  
"Be careful out there," he said softly, "the roads are a mess today."  
  
Silently she smiled and nodded at him before getting into her car and driving away.  
  
"Sydney, how was today?" Irina smiled widely as her daughter walked into the house.  
  
"It was . . Beautiful," she smiled and sat down on the sofa. Effortlessly she kicked her shoes off, relieved to be out of her heels. "Everything was great, from their vows to the cake . . . Francie looked so beautiful."  
  
"You look beautiful too, I love the dress," she complimented.  
  
"It was everything Francie imagined it would be," she smiled.   
  
"That's fabulous sweetheart, everyone deserves that on their wedding day."  
  
Growing serious Sydney nodded. Adjusting her seat on the couch she picked nonexistent lint off of her gown and looked back at her Mother. "What was your wedding like?"  
  
"Oh, Sydney," Irina's smile grew. "Your Father and I married in July, we had met in September, so we'd only known one another for nine months . . . I was twenty years old and he was twenty one. Julie and Millie were my bridesmaids. They were both literature students and they really were two of the best friends I'd ever had . . . . Oh Sydney," she sighed as she recalled the long ago day. "When I walked down the aisle and looked at your Father . . . Meeting him in September had been carefully planned, it had been my objective, since your Father was already with the CIA and had been for some time. Somehow, somewhere along the way. . . Actually, sometime on the second date," she laughed, "I fell for him. We actually spoke about marriage on the second date, seriously spoke about it, and it stopped being about just work," she confessed. "I fell in love with him, it's the most dangerous thing I've ever done but I loved him and I loved every moment I spent as Laura Bristow. Perhaps our marriage was an illusion Sydney . . I don't expect this to be a consolation to either you or your Father, but it was an illusion for me too, because I desperately wanted it to be real."  
  
Looking down at her hands she decided now would be the time to bring up what had been haunting her for nearly a week. "Remember when I disappeared last Sunday?"  
  
"Yes," she spoke softly and nodded.  
  
"I went to see Vaughn . . . I didn't plan it," she quickly added. "I just . . . I walked into the kitchen after I had showered and I saw you and Dad . . . Together."  
  
"Sydney," her Mother shook her head and smiled. "Sweetheart, why didn't you say something earlier?"  
  
"I didn't feel it was my business -"  
  
"I'm your Mother, we're your parents, and it is your business." She sternly corrected. "What would you like to know?"  
  
"Anything," she smiled.  
  
"We fought it . . . I am not the woman your Father thought I was, and he's finally come to terms with that, but he's also realized how much of me is really the woman he knew . . . . Both your Father and I have done horrible things to each other, things that can't be taken back or corrected . . . Love is overcoming that, forgiving and moving past it. Your Father accepts what I can give him, and I've promised to always give him the truth. Ironically I'll never be your Father's favorite person, but he can't bring himself to stop loving me," she chuckled.  
  
"You wear a wedding ring," she whispered.  
  
"Yes, I do," she agreed as she looked down at her left hand. "It's actually the very same ring your Father gave me. I told my superiors that I took absolutely nothing with me when I left, no clothes, no jewelry . . . But I always managed to keep the ring," she smiled. "Rather simple, isn't it?"   
  
"It's beautiful," she corrected. "Are you two still . . .? "  
  
"Yes, Sydney," she smiled, "your Father and I are still legally married."  
  
"You never went through with the divorce?" She smiled as she asked the question. Not only were her parents *together*, they were *married*.   
  
"No, we didn't," she agreed. "Sydney . . . I know this is a lot to take in, and I know you've experienced a wide amount of changes since your return, but your Father and I love you. Neither one of us has consistently proven it to you, but we love you and only want what's best for you, that's all we've ever wanted."  
  
"I want you and Dad to be happy too."  
  
"We're not conventional Sydney, but we're happy."  
  
"Good," she nodded.  
  
"Are you hungry?" Irina stood and set her book down; the fluid motion that she used to stretch once again reminded her daughter of a cat.  
  
"I don't think I could eat another thing, they served an early dinner at the reception and it was huge."  
  
"I'm glad you had a nice time," she smiled. "How is Mr. Vaughn?" She casually asked as her daughter trailed her into the kitchen.  
  
"We only had a few minutes to talk."  
  
"Was his wife there?" She glanced at her daughter curiously while she began to prepare her own dinner.  
  
"No," was her soft reply as her Mother's smile widened.  
  
"How was your speech?"  
  
"Francie and Will loved it. I hate giving speeches though."  
  
"Then it's best that you want to teach high school. Being a professor of literature requires giving lectures to large crowds of students every day."  
  
"I need to start job searching Monday," she remembered.  
  
"Sydney," Irina put something in the oven and then sat down across from her daughter. "You can stay here as long as you'd like. I don't want you to feel as though I want you out of here. I love having you here," she smiled.  
  
"Thanks," she smiled.   
  
"Your Father will be here late in the morning, do you have anything you need to do?"  
  
"I promised Francie I'd drop her dress off at the cleaners and bring the cameras to be developed, but I'm not sure when tomorrow I'll do that. Why is Dad coming so early?"  
  
"I don't know, he just said that he'd be here by ten."  
  
"Why don't you go lay down Sydney? You look like you could use a bath and a nap."  
  
"Actually," she yawned, "that sounds good."  
  
"I'll bring you up a small dinner later, okay?"  
  
"Mom -"  
  
"You need to eat Sydney," Irina stopped her. "Now go take a bath and nap."  
  
"Thanks," she smiled and walked out of the kitchen. 


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Lightkeeper   
  
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)  
  
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com  
  
Story Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles.  
  
A/N: After "The Telling", I hate this story . . . But, I can't stop writing it. Not sure why (okay, I do, you'd all hunt me down & hurt me) but here's the next chapter. Sorry for the delay.   
  
"Hi Dad," Sydney smiled as she pulled open the door and allowed her father into the house shortly after ten in the morning.  
  
"Good morning Sydney," he greeted, his face breaking into a tiny smile when he saw Irina walk into the room.  
  
"How about some coffee?" Irina suggested as she led the three of them into the kitchen.  
  
"It smells good in here," Jack commented offhandedly.  
  
"I started dinner already, we're going to have pork," his wife explained. As she sat at the table Sydney watched the exchange with unhidden interest, searching her mind for some memory of their earlier relationship, before their personas had turned gray and she had still firmly believed in happy endings.  
  
"Sydney I have something for you," Jack revealed as he sat down next to his daughter, coffee in hand. Reaching into his pocket - he was in dark slacks and a sweater, which she realized was as casual as her father would ever become - he handed her a small wrapped box. "Actually it's something that's already yours," he commented as she unwrapped it, revealing a white box.   
  
Holding the box, it reminded her of the type she'd be given after buying earrings from the piercing pagoda in the mall. Pulling the top off, she half expected jewelry but was surprised to see two keys. "What -" she started.  
  
"Your car," Jack explained. "When you left I made the proper arrangements. Now you no longer need your mother's car. I promise that your car is bug free, although I did put a bug killer under the passenger's floor mat."  
  
"You kept my car the entire time?" she whispered.   
  
Jack silently nodded, not bothering to tell her the struggle he went through to be the one to do that. At the time, a certain CIA handler had been vehement that he keep the car. Eventually, it had been the reminder that Jack outranked him in the CIA that sent him off, defeated, giving up a piece of her life that he had desperately wanted to keep. At the time, Jack hadn't seen it, but the younger man had been desperate to keep some piece of her, no matter how small, with him while she was away. In hindsight, it worked out for the best. Somehow Jack doubted Sydney would have approved of the younger agent's *wife* being in her car, or her car being used while the newlyweds were in India.  
  
"Now you can go run your errands, see your friends, look for a job," Irina smiled contently.  
  
"Thank you," she smiled at her father as he nodded with a blank _expression.  
  
"Don't you need to run errands for Francie?" her mother asked.  
  
"I couldn't -" she began to protest, still hesitant to leave her parents alone.  
  
"It's fine Sydney," her father stopped her. The Zen realization that her parents *wanted* time alone was still new to her, and she slowly stood as she nodded.  
  
"Okay... Well, I'll take care of the dress and the cameras. I might stop by Francie's house to pick up some movies and CD's that I have there. Do we need anything while I'm out?"  
  
"We're fine, just be home by dinner," her mother smiled.   
  
"Drive safely," Jack called out as she slipped her jacket on and nodded. Looking at the two of them, sitting across from each other drinking coffee, she smiled before walking out of the house.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Her car was better than ever. During her absence her father had managed to revitalize the car so that it even had the fabulous new-car scent when she hopped into it for the first time in over two years. The radio was on with a brief flick of her wrist and she was delighted that all of her presets were still as they were when she left. Since her return she'd become so dependent on using her mother's car that she'd nearly forgotten her beloved Jeep. Will used to playfully tease her about her attachment to the car. It was, however, the first thing she had purchased from her own money. The car had offered her the first chance she ever had to leave the house behind her, to not have to rely on her father or friends or a nanny. Admittedly, the car was now ten years old, but it ran just as smoothly as the day she had purchased it. Barring any major problems she saw no need to rid herself of the car any time in the near future.  
  
Following Francie's specific directions she dropped the dress off at a cleaner who specialized in the cleaning and preservation of wedding dresses. After that it was off to the film shop, making small chitchat with the handsome store manager as she dropped the cameras off. Getting back on the road she forced herself to try and enjoy the LA traffic - after all, she had only been back for a few scarce days - as she drove the familiar route to her former apartment.   
  
Using her key she let herself into the house, making a mental note to remind her friends that she still had the key. Upon their return they'd be newlyweds, and she doubted they'd want her around for a while. Not that she blamed them. You were only considered a newlywed for so long; the hours, days and weeks that you wore the glow of matrimony only lasted for so long. Needless to say, she didn't resent them for wanting to spend that brief time with only each other.  
  
She froze when she heard the water running in the back bathroom. Silently she shut the front door and made her way to the back of the house, prepared to fight if necessary. Although her skills hadn't been used in years, they were still fresh in her memory and she had no qualms about using them. Slinking through the hallway towards the bedroom, she listened as the water stopped running. Slowly she slid the bedroom door open, and tossed her leg up in a strong kick when she saw someone's back. Instinct kicked back in, and after a few moments of fighting, her suspect was flat on his back gasping for breath.  
  
"Jesus Syd," he muttered as her eyes widened.  
  
"Vaughn!" She instantly felt horrible as she knelt by his side. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I could," he paused to cough and struggle to gain his breath, "I could ask you the same question."  
  
"I stopped by to get a few things I still had here," she explained, helping him sit up. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"They asked me to water their plants," his voice was strained as he explained. "I thought you'd retired from kickboxing," he teased as she helped pull him to his feet.  
  
"Sorry, instinct." Her cheeks burned as she shrugged. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I never meant -"  
  
"I'm fine," he cut her off with a half-smile. "When did you get here?"  
  
"A few minutes ago," she shrugged as they walked into the kitchen. "Here," she handed him a glass of cool water.   
  
"Thanks," he smiled and gratefully accepted it. "How'd you get here?"  
  
"I got my car back. Apparently my father's been keeping it the entire time I was gone."  
  
"Everything's okay with it, right? Does it need any work? A tune up?"  
  
"Pristine condition," she smiled. "Watering plants?"  
  
His eyebrows rose as he smirked, "It was either that or take Donovan to the vet. Since Donovan really didn't like that idea, I decided the plants probably would appreciate it if I watered them. So what did you come to get?"  
  
"Just some of my videos and my CD's," she shrugged. "My hidden collection of every John Hughes and Molly Ringwald movie," she conceded as they shared a brief laugh. "What are your weekend plans?" she casually inquired.  
  
"Donovan needs a bath," he remembered. "So what's your favorite?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Molly Ringwald or John Hughes movie."  
  
"I love the Breakfast Club," she smiled. "Actually my favorite eighties movie isn't a Hughes or Ringwald film," she recalled as she got her own water.  
  
"My sister has every eighties teen movie imaginable Syd, should I be scared to ask what your favorite is?"  
  
"Maybe," she laughed. "It's definitely a tie between Dirty Dancing and Mystic Pizza. I don't know why I love them so much, but I do."  
  
"First date movie?"  
  
The question caused her eyes to widen as she shook her head. "No. My first date movie was Jurassic Park."  
  
"Jurassic Park?" A single eyebrow gracefully rose on his face as she nodded. "I didn't think that was a dating movie."  
  
"It's not, but I was young and passive."  
  
"Sorry Syd, it's hard for me to ever imagine you bring passive."  
  
"In high school and most of my freshman year of college, I was horrible. Just ask Francie. Anyone could walk over me and I'd just let it slide. I wasn't very outgoing either. If I could have seen some of the outfits I'd wear one day... I'd probably yell at myself to get a sweater."  
  
"You should have watched more James Bond, you would have been more prepared."  
  
"Yeah," she laughed. "Are you sure you're okay? I'm so sorry if I hurt you -"  
  
"I'm fine," he assured her with a half-grin. "A bit sore and admittedly impressed that you can still do that so well, but fine."  
  
"I guess it's like riding a bicycle," she shrugged as she washed out her now-empty water glass.   
  
"Sure," he teased. "Sorry Syd, what you just did to me is *not* like riding a bike."   
  
"Really, it's instinct," she insisted.   
  
"On behalf of all potential burglars everywhere, it's good that not every person has that instinct," he teased.   
  
"Did you get to water the plants?"  
  
"I was about to when you showed off your... abilities." His eyebrow rose as her skin reddened. "Were you training in Armenia and not telling anyone Syd?"   
  
"I was teaching!" she protested before they both laughed. "I'm a little surprised at how easily it came," she confessed. "I was good, wasn't I?"  
  
"Impressive," Vaughn agreed   
  
"I should get my movies," Sydney realized.   
  
"I should go water the plants," he nodded. After a moment they went in opposite directions, Sydney searching through Francie and Will's vast media collection before she gathered half a dozen of her favorites. Minutes later her former handler reappeared, a smile on his face. "So where are you going now?"  
  
"Anywhere but my mother's place. I think my parents basically requested some alone time," she considered. Despite his good manners, he was unable to stop himself before he chuckled at her _expression. "What are your plans? Have you decided to torture Donovan with a vet appointment?"  
  
"No," he shook his head. "I have to do a few more errands. We need dog food and I'm in charge of dinner tonight."  
  
"You cook?"   
  
"I cook," he confirmed to Sydney's surprise.  
  
"Then you need to go," she pointed out and sat down in the living room.  
  
Vaughn nodded, "I need to go," he agreed. "Enjoy your movies."  
  
"Thanks," she smiled as he hesitantly started towards the door.  
  
Half a step from the door he faltered and hesitantly turned back around. "Syd, you want to go jogging?"  
  
"What?" She looked up from her attempts to program the DVD player.  
  
"Not now. Tomorrow morning. At the pier. It's probably been a while, but I'm sure you can keep up with me," he teased.   
  
For a moment she looked down at her lap, her fingers discreetly scratching her head. Half a millisecond went by and he thought he could hear his heart break, certain she was about to turn him down.   
  
"What time?"  
  
"I usually get there around six thirty, or is that too early for you?"  
  
"No," her head shook. "Six thirty's fine," she smiled, her grin only growing at his own heart-stopping smile. "I'll meet you there?"  
  
"Great," he smiled before he slipped out the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning he arrived at six, stretching and studying the water in an attempt to not look obvious. Alice was used to his occasional need to slip out of bed early to run; it wasn't something she understood, but wasn't surprised to wake up and see him gone. Still, it wasn't a concern of any priority to him, aware that his wife rarely got out of bed before nine. On the off chance that she would awake, he'd left a note saying he'd gone for a run and would be back before eight.  
  
Her mother's house was quiet the next morning when Sydney slipped out. The otherwise short drive to the pier seemed fantastically long as she slowed down in the parking lot, turning the car off in the spot next to his. As she got out of the car she quickly spotted Vaughn. Unaware of her attention, he was studying the water and absently looking down at his watch. Even in his jogging pants, T-shirt and sneakers, the sight of him put a smile on her face. This was either the most intelligent or foolish thing she had ever agreed to. Truthfully, she wasn't yet sure, but she knew she wasn't willing to lose whatever spot in his life he wanted to offer her.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Vaughn turned around at the melodic sound of her voice. "Hey Syd," he smiled.   
  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said gazing out at the water.  
  
"It is," he agreed, looking away. "Do you need to warm up?"  
  
"Nah, I'm ready. You think you can keep up with me?"  
  
"You're not going to give an old man some leniency?"  
  
Sydney rolled her brown eyes, "You're thirty-six Vaughn, that doesn't make you an old man."  
  
"Compared to you it does."  
  
She laughed, "You're acting freaky again."   
  
"Let's run," he smirked as they began to jog together along the pier. "So how long are you going to stay at your mother's?"  
  
"Until I have a job. I do have some savings, but I doubt it's enough for a down payment. When I left, I didn't expect to lose my roommate status to marriage."  
  
"Have you asked them about staying there?"  
  
Her ponytail shook as she silently told him no. "I couldn't. They're going to be newlyweds, they're going to want to be alone. I don't want to intrude on that."  
  
"Would it hurt to ask?"  
  
"I would feel too out of place," she explained. "I'd like my own place anyway. I've never lived on my own, it's about time."  
  
"Not even in college?"  
  
"Not even in college," Sydney replied. "I had a roommate in boarding school, a roommate in college, then I lived with Danny. After that I lived with Francie."  
  
He wanted to ask if she was scared, but it was an insane question. Sydney Bristow was never scared of anything, and even if she were, she wouldn't admit it to anyone. After two years apart, he doubted she'd admit anything to him. There'd been a time, before two had years passed, he had married and the entire world had seemed to flip on to its side, that she would have told him anything. A time where she wanted to tell him everything. Absently, he wondered if such a privilege was lost to him forever.  
  
"Vaughn? You okay?" she called in concern. When he looked over at her, her smile was almost as bright as the rising sun. "You seemed somewhere else for a second. Is everything okay?"  
  
"I'm fine," he smiled. "Are you nervous?" Vaughn tried to casually slip the question into the conversation.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Living on your own?"  
  
"No, I don't think I'm nervous," she paused, stretching slightly as she deliberated his question. "I guess I'm still not sure where to begin."  
  
"To begin?"  
  
"Yeah," she shrugged as they began to jog again. "I'm starting all over again in Los Angeles. That wasn't my intention when I left, to come back and make a new start, but it's how it worked out. Now I have all these pieces that belong in my old life and I'm not exactly sure how to fit them together."  
  
"Not everything needs to be reassembled Syd."  
  
"In a way it does," Sydney corrected. "My parents are together again - that's something that I still can't quite understand," she conceded. "Will and Francie are together, which is something I probably should have seen coming, but honestly didn't. Everything's just... different," she trailed off. Her body language gave away her discomfort as she shifted her gaze to look at the wooden planks they jogged across.  
  
"Hey," he stopped and gently touched the inside of her elbow. Hesitantly, she stopped and looked at him. The perspiration showed on both of their faces as he took a moment to collect himself. "You know I'm here for you, if you need me, right?"  
  
Sydney smiled and shook her head, "I know Vaughn, but -"  
  
"No," he cut her off. "No 'buts' Sydney," Vaughn's eyebrows rose as he met her eyes. "I'm here."  
  
"Thank you," she spoke softly. After a pause in which they studied one another, she smiled and they began to jog together again.   
  
"Do you want to live near the water?" he asked casually as they moved along the pier.  
  
"If I can afford it, but on a teachers salary it's unlikely."  
  
"You could work as a waitress at the restaurant," he teased. "Make up the difference in the tips."  
  
"Funny," she shot back, still laughing. "When do you suggest I sleep?"  
  
"I thought you didn't need sleep."  
  
"If I could have figured out a way to survive without sleep, my life would have been a *lot* easier," she agreed.   
  
"Syd, if you're serious about living by the water and about being on your own, you could always get another roommate."  
  
"How?" She looked slightly amused. "I'm not going to put an ad in the personals looking for a roommate. I don't know where to begin, but I'm eager to learn."  
  
Vaughn nodded and looked away. For a few minutes the only sound that could be heard was their feet pounding on the planks below and their matched breathing patterns. "How are things with your parents?" he finally asked.   
  
"Fine," she shrugged. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to it. They're not the parents I remember from when I was little. I know that must not make much sense -"  
  
"I understand," he insisted. "They're not pretending to be perfect Jack and Laura Bristow anymore."  
  
"Exactly. I guess they're more real now, to me and to each other," she mused. "When I was little, I hardly remember them arguing; I don't think either of them saw the flaws in one another... Now they see the flaws. They know what to look for."  
  
"I'm not a big fan of either of your parents Syd," he softly reminded her. "But I give your father a lot of credit. To be able to look past what they went through... I don't know how he does it."  
  
"You don't think you'd be able to do it?" she inquired softly. They both stopped running and fully faced each other.   
  
"If I ever put myself in that position, I'd probably still be kicking myself in the ass for being so blind." Vaughn shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away.  
  
"He loves her."  
  
He panted to catch his breath and nodded. "I know," he said glancing quickly at her.   
  
Sydney shrugged and tightened her ponytail. "I don't consider myself naive, especially not when it comes to my parents' ability to deceive..." she paused before she continued, "I guess I still like to believe that in the end, love wins, no matter the betrayal or evil."   
  
"Love wins?"  
  
"Maybe not always," she shrugged again. "I still like to think it does though. A pretty romantic thought for a former spy, huh?" she smiled.  
  
"It's a nice thought Syd," he softly insisted. "Did you get the DVD player to work?"  
  
"Finally. I almost called Marshall though," she admitted to his amusement. "I can defuse a bomb in under a minute but I can't get a DVD to play."  
  
"Progress is not all it's made out to be."  
  
"I think I'll stick to VCR's," Sydney agreed. "I just hope I don't have to use DVD's when I teach."  
  
"I'm sure there are ways around that Syd," he chuckled. "So, what are you going to go by? Ms. Bristow or Miss Bristow?"  
  
Mrs. Vaughn, her mind popped, but she quickly stopped that internal thought. "Miss Bristow, probably," she shrugged. Truthfully she hadn't given it much thought, instead, too preoccupied with trying to get a job. "Do you usually jog here?"  
  
"Sometimes, when it's not too cold. It's easy to think here."  
  
"I love it here," she agreed.   
  
Softly he spoke, "I remember."  
  
"I hope Will and Francie are having a good time."  
  
"I'm sure they are," he insisted. "The weather should be decent for them this time of year."  
  
"Where did you go with Alice?" she asked casually.  
  
Vaughn stopped running and spoke disapprovingly, "Syd."  
  
"What?" She paused with him. The question was perfectly acceptable from one friend to another, but it was the last he would have expected from her.   
  
"We didn't have much of a honeymoon. We stayed at a bed and breakfast in Napa for a few days before we left for India."  
  
"That's a nice area," she casually agreed as they slowly walked to cool down. Quietly he hoped she'd just kick the life out of him and get it over with - it would be far less painful than the avenue of conversation she'd just opened up. "I'd never realized you were so interested in that area."  
  
"I worked there for a few years after I joined," he shrugged. "My father did some work there too. I was familiar with the area and it was a good position."  
  
"Is that why you were born in France? Your father was working there?"  
  
Vaughn smiled and shook his head, only slightly surprised that she knew that little fact about him. "That's actually how my parents met. My dad was working and my mother was in graduate school. She's from France originally," he explained as she nodded. "So, she was in graduate school and to make ends meet she worked as a nanny to a diplomat. My father was friends with the diplomat and over for dinner one evening. They consequently met, fell in love and eventually I came along," he raised an eyebrow and smiled.  
  
"That's a nice story," Sydney agreed. There'd never be a story like that for her to tell, not about her parents or even how she met any future husband she might have. While most people took sweet courtship stories for granted, it was one luxury her life never allowed.  
  
"How did you meet Danny?"   
  
"Through Will," she smiled. The more time that passed, the more relieved she was that the image and memories of her late fiancé brought smiles instead of tears. "He didn't set us up, it was a coincidence. I liked him from the first moment I met him," she remarked, looking over at Vaughn. Then she added, "That seems so long ago now."  
  
"That's really nice though Syd."  
  
"Yeah," she nodded. "It was."  
  
"He'd want you to be happy."  
  
"I know," she smiled. "I'm trying."  
  
Vaughn nodded, "Good."  
  
"I'm going to do it. To find a job, get settled in, to be happy. I just have to find a job first."  
  
"You'll find a job Syd. Any school would be lucky to have you."  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, a distant _expression slipping over her features.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Sydney quickly shook her head, "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I guess I just got wrapped up in my thoughts."  
  
"About what?" he gently prodded.  
  
"My parents," she answered. Stopping, she turned to fully face him, her hands on her hips. "He was there this morning. My father. His car was there when I left."  
  
Slowly he nodded, "Okay."  
  
"I guess I'm just trying to understand their relationship... I mean, are they still in love... Or is it just about sex?" she pondered. "The more I think about it, the more I realize I don't ever remember my father dating. I never met any of his girlfriends; the housekeeper never even mentioned one... At the time, I thought it was sort of romantic, the one sweet thing about my father. I'd imagined that he'd loved my mother so much that he couldn't even *look* at another woman... I'd come home from boarding school on the weekends and there'd be no sign of someone else being there... There were rarely ever signs of *him* being there," she recalled. "Maybe he does this a lot then. Casual sex..."  
  
Vaughn sighed and leaned against the rail. A moment later she joined him. "I think that there's too much history and pain between your parents... After all the deceit, and all the betrayals... I don't think your father would be with your mother in *any* capacity just to fulfill a... primal need. And maybe you're right, Syd. Maybe your father *did* love your mother too much, so that after she left, he just couldn't find it in himself to want another relationship."  
  
"It's hard for me to see them together... I'm adjusting, but at first it was difficult. Still, I want to believe that. I want to believe that they love each other; that I wasn't the product of some convenient union... I'm thirty years old, you'd think I'd be past needing anything from them."  
  
"I think we always need validation from our parents. Not as much as when we're younger, but validation that they love us, that they need us, that they don't regret our existence..." He looked over at her. "Your parents don't regret you Syd. If anything, they regret hurting you."  
  
"I don't know why it's bothering me so much... Maybe it's because I'm living with them. For the first time since I was a little girl, I'm living with my mom and dad and I can't just avoid it... I can't run from it anymore, not from them or anything."  
  
"You don't need to run Syd."  
  
"I know that now. I think in a way, I always did, I just needed to be reminded of that."  
  
"You're sure of it now?"  
  
"I am," Sydney smiled. "I'm still adjusting. I have the time though... The Alliance is gone, Sloane's gone..." She looked out at the ocean. "I can have the life I want. Not overnight, but I can have it."  
  
"You are many things Syd, but are you that patient?"  
  
"No," she laughed. "But I have time to learn that too."  
  
"Everything will turn out the way you want it to, it's just going to take a while."  
  
"Yeah," she sighed, tilting her head slightly so her temple rested against the side of his arm. "I know." 


	6. Chapter 6

Title: The Lightkeeper   
  
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)  
  
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com  
  
Story Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles.  
  
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Work blazed by Monday, keeping him busy as it generally did. Will and Francie had left him a message on the voice mail of his cell phone, thanking him for everything and assuring him that they were having a great time. The newlyweds still had some time left before they returned to Los Angeles and were enjoying every moment they could. At the end of the day, briefly wondering if Sydney had struck gold while looking for a job and pleased that his friends were enjoying the accommodations he'd helped to facilitate, he left work heading towards the apartment he called home.  
  
  
  
Stepping into the apartment, he was surprised to see it so dim. After allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he finally spotted Alice. Shrouded by the dark, she was seemingly staring at the stuffed animal in her hands. Vaughn's stomach dropped as he recognized the plush toy. A tan monkey wearing a red and white dotted fabric diaper and holding a binky, Alice's mother had sent it to her when they were in India. As a baby, his wife had the exact same stuffed animal, only larger, and still kept it visible. When she'd unpacked the animal, the joy in her eyes at the eagerness of sharing the toy with their upcoming child had been one of the few bright spots in an otherwise difficult pregnancy.  
  
  
  
Careful to remain quiet, he dropped his briefcase and rested his jacket over the back of the sofa. "Allie?" he called softly, banging his knee against the end table as he struggled to navigate through the darkness. "Alice?" he repeated, sinking into the aged sofa next to her. The concern that had rested in his heart since Henry's death only grew, as she remained unresponsive. Again he repeated her name, this time reaching over to place his hand over hers, causing her to jump.  
  
  
  
"Michael," she sighed his name, her eyes shutting.  
  
  
  
"Allie, what are you doing?" he spoke gently, his voice low. Even through the darkness, she barked at him to stop when she detected he was about to turn on the lamp. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"  
  
  
  
"I was just thinking..." she trailed off. One time during her pregnancy, Michael's mother and sister had commented that Alice was the type of woman whom they suspected would be susceptible to post-partum depression, but even he suspected that this was extreme.  
  
  
  
"Alice." He gently took the stuffed monkey and set it down on the coffee table. "I'm worried about you."  
  
  
  
While he could barely see five inches in front of him, he was startled at how blank her gaze was when she shifted to meet his. "Why?"  
  
  
  
"Why?" His eyes grew, having fully adjusted to the lack of light. "Allie, it's been months. I'm not saying that makes it better, but... I'm worried about you, you don't go out, you don't talk to your friends, or even your family. You barely talk to me," he gently pushed his point.   
  
  
  
"I'm going to call Doctor Barnett. She works for the agency; she's very good at what she does. I'm going to see if she'll see you or recommend someone for you. We'll even go together if it's easier for you."  
  
  
  
"I don't need to see your company shrink," Alice retorted, her voice unusually strong in its conviction. "What does she know anyway?"  
  
  
  
"You can't live your life like this. You can't possibly want this anymore Allie. I don't want it for you, and I know Henry wouldn't-" he started as his wife glared at him.  
  
  
  
"Don't you dare assume what our son would or wouldn't want for me. What about you? You're worried about *me*?" she snapped and stood, pacing in the darkness. "I think you should look in the mirror Michael! Look at you, out with your friends, acting like nothing happened -"  
  
  
  
"It's been six months -"  
  
  
  
"He was still our son!" she boomed. "Our son! Don't you care?"  
  
  
  
"Damnit, of course I care!" he hissed. "The world doesn't stop though. There were days I wished it would too, but it doesn't. This has been going on for *months* now and it needs to stop," he demanded. Cautiously he stood and approached his wife, starting again in a far less harsh manner. "One session. We'll go together. We can work out things. We can talk about Henry, about everything... I just want you to be happy again."   
  
  
  
"I don't want to see the fucking company shrink," she repeated.  
  
  
  
"One time," he gently coaxed. "One time, if it doesn't work we'll try something else."  
  
  
  
"It's not going to work Michael, one visit with some damn psychiatrist isn't going to make this better! Our son is *dead*, there's nothing that can fix that!"  
  
  
  
"I'm not trying to fix it," he quickly retorted with an edge to his voice. "I *know* nothing can fix it Alice, I'm just trying to *help* you."  
  
  
  
"I don't think you're trying to help me, you're just trying to make yourself feel better," she snorted.  
  
  
  
Sucking in a gasp of air, he studied the woman who had been in his life on and off for years. "You don't mean that Allie."  
  
  
  
"When was the last time you really *looked* at me Michael? Really looked at our marriage?! Instead, you're out the door, with your friends, spending fucking twelve-hour days at the damn office! Newsflash - you aren't the only government employee! Make someone else do it!"  
  
  
  
"I enjoy my job," he reminded her, struggling to remain calm.  
  
  
  
"You've used it to avoid me!"  
  
  
  
"I've used it to avoid *you*?" Vaughn's eyes widened as a single eyebrow rose. "What about India Alice? You were distant and uncooperative before you even *got* pregnant!"  
  
  
  
"It's your fault I was in that hellhole! What the hell possessed you to take a job in the middle of one of the most dangerous places in the world? Were you *trying* to get us killed?" she hissed.  
  
  
  
The air in the room barrelled out as his voice dropped. "It was a *good* opportunity. You didn't have any problems with it at the time, and I asked you repeatedly it if would be okay. For a while I even thought you were looking forward to it."  
  
  
  
"Yeah, I was looking forward to moving thousands of miles from anyone I know into a country where both of us could potentially be killed at any moment," she snorted.  
  
  
  
"Damnit Allie, I'm not a fucking mind reader. If you were miserable then, why wait so long to tell me?"  
  
  
  
"Because you had been in this god forsaken slump for fucking months!" Alice shouted. "You'd been depressed and moody and when you proposed I *thought* you were getting over it. I thought the move would help *you* get on with life!"  
  
  
  
"What about you?" his voice dipped. "That's exactly what you're doing now Alice. You're in a slump, and god I'm hurting too but we can't stop living."  
  
  
  
"You haven't even grieved!"  
  
  
  
"Just because I haven't done it *your* way, doesn't mean I haven't done it," he snapped. "Damnit Allie," he sighed and sunk down onto the sofa. "This..." he waved his hand into the air around them. "We're a fucking mess," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair.  
  
  
  
Slowly Alice sat down a few inches from him, burying her face in her hands. "Michael," she sighed, her voice barely audible. When she finally glanced back at him, the unshed moisture had pooled in front of her eyes. "I never wanted things to get this way."  
  
  
  
"I know," Michael's voice cracked as he cautiously draped an arm around her. "I know Allie," he murmured into her hair. "We can give Barnett a try... If it doesn't work, we'll try something else."  
  
  
  
"What if she can't fix this?" her voice was hoarse as it ran over the dreaded words. "What if no one can?"  
  
  
  
"Don't say that. We can fix this," he insisted, despite the bitter taste of doubt that lingered on his tongue. "We can fix this," he repeated, unable to do anything but wonder if this was even something either of them wanted to fix.  
  
  
  
An air of raw pain seemed to shroud the apartment throughout the remainder of the night, corresponding with the dim lights. Walking on eggshells, he prepared his wife come tea and then sat next to her on their massive bed, lightly massaging her temples as he listened to her breathing. Sleep was the only escape Alice had, the only place that he'd seen her wear a mask of comfort since the disastrous October. Long after the sun disappeared for the day, he tiptoed around the apartment, allowing the hot water to numb him during his shower before he crawled into bed next to her. Resting on his side a few inches from his wife, he struggled to memorize the _expression of relief on Alice's face, rolling over and wondering when, if ever, he'd see her wear the look while awake.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
While counselling family members of CIA employees was a part of her job, it was not a high priority in Doctor Barnett's office. After Vaughn spent nearly an hour the following morning all but arguing with Barnett's secretary, he finally arranged a Thursday appointment. The doctor had been kind enough to agree to see them during his lunch break, giving him the opportunity to sit in with his wife without missing any work.   
  
  
  
The minutes to their Thursday lunch time appointment ticked by as Vaughn sat fitfully in his office. In between his fingers he expertly twirled his coin, wondering about the disastrous meeting ahead of him. Alice had said little to him since their Monday night conversation, although he hadn't again come home to a dark house. Dinner was made at night, although it had been small, simple meals, and the day before he'd noticed she'd gone out and even worn make up. Although she made no attempt to tell him where she'd gone or with who, but it was enough for him to know she'd done something.  
  
  
  
"Hey," Eric Weiss smiled as he stuck his head into his friend's office. "I thought you'd tossed that thing."  
  
  
  
"No, I just had it in my desk," he sighed and placed it back in the appropriate drawer.  
  
  
  
"You doing anything? We're going out to lunch, Dixon won't tell us what we're celebrating."  
  
  
  
"No, I'm supposed to meet with Alice," he explained.  
  
  
  
"Oh," he sighed, a bitter _expression briefly on his face. "Can't you reschedule?"  
  
  
  
"No Eric," Vaughn sighed in aggravation. As tempting as it was, this was a last-ditch effort to save his fledgling marriage. "I can't."  
  
  
  
"If you change your mind, just beep me, I'll let you know where we end up."  
  
  
  
"Have fun," he called as his friend disappeared.  
  
  
  
In his compact office he ate the tiny lunch he had packed himself before he left for Barnett's office. After Henry's death it had been required for him to see a psychiatrist for six months. Having just finished the agency's requirements a few short months ago, he had not been eager to suggest it to Alice. Alice would no go alone however, and it was the only option he felt they had. Straightening his suit jacket, Vaughn was more than aware that Barnett would be scrutinizing his appearance from the moment he walked in the door. Taking one last breath to brace himself, he grabbed the doorknob and walked into the waiting area.  
  
  
  
The secretary, an aging, pleasant woman who he had spent months making small talk with, directed him to go right in. Pasting on a smile, he stepped in and caught sight of his wife. Dressed simply, her make up was once again done and her hair neatly styled. If all else failed, he could console himself that at least this had forced her out of the house.   
  
  
  
"Hey," he smiled as Dr. Barnett silently urged him to sit.  
  
  
  
"Michael," Alice smiled as he sank onto the sofa next to her.  
  
  
  
"Agent Vaughn, thank you for coming," Judy Barnett smiled pleasantly and took a look at the file in her lap. "It's been a few months since we've spoken, how are you?"  
  
  
  
"Fine." He quickly dismissed her concerns with a shake of his head. "I've been fine."  
  
  
  
"That's good," she commented. "I've been taking a moment to catch up with Mrs. Vaughn. You two have been married for just over a year now."  
  
  
  
"Right," Alice gave a small smile and agreed. For a moment he studied his wife, struggling to remember the last time he'd seen her look so positive.  
  
  
  
"You've only been back for a few weeks, but I see that Agent Vaughn underwent six months of counselling with a agency therapist while you were stationed in India."  
  
  
  
"Yes, I did." He rearranged his body and nodded tensely.  
  
  
  
"At the time Mrs. Vaughn, you turned down the CIA's offer of therapy."  
  
  
  
"That's right," she confirmed.  
  
  
  
Judy Barnett was a patient woman, and carefully studied the young blonde woman. "But now you'd like to discuss it."  
  
  
  
Uncomfortably, the woman looked at her husband before she glanced back at the doctor. "Yes."  
  
  
  
Nodding, the doctor took a moment to study the file. "I see here that your son, Henry, would have been seven months, if he had survived."  
  
  
  
"Yes." Alice folded her hands and looked down at her lap. "He would have been," she confirmed. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael steadily watched her with a small, but still gaping hole in his own heart.  
  
  
  
"When a couple comes to me to talk, I don't like to assume anything. Would either of you like to discuss your reasons for being here?"  
  
  
  
"I don't think it's one thing exactly..." he cautiously began.  
  
  
  
Next to him his wife quickly corrected, "It's mostly about Henry."  
  
  
  
"It's not *just* about Henry," he retorted, the edge obvious in his voice.  
  
  
  
"No, it's about Henry and how you act like this damn job is going to fix everything," she hissed in his direction.  
  
  
  
"I think," Judy briefly raised her voice, "I think that we'll eventually be able to address everything. What in particular is each of you hoping to get from this?"  
  
  
  
Vaughn silently looked at his wife, gallantly allowing her to speak first. Crossing her legs, Alice folded her hands and hesitated.   
  
  
  
"Please, feel free to speak your mind here. That's what I'm here for. I'd expect each of you to listen to the other without attacking while you're here, and to build upon what progress we make. So please, don't be afraid to tell us what you expect."  
  
  
  
"I don't want to feel alone anymore," she sighed.  
  
  
  
"Alice - " he started.  
  
  
  
"Please, Agent Vaughn," Judy cut him off. "Yes, Mrs. Vaughn?"  
  
  
  
"I feel all alone in this... Michael's always working..." she sighed and looked up at them. "I want to see where there is to go, instead of feeling like we're stuck in this place where we don't even like each other all that much."   
  
  
  
"I appreciate your honesty, I understand how difficult this must be for you." She smiled kindly at the blonde woman. "Agent Vaughn?"  
  
  
  
"I want this to work again."  
  
  
  
"What, exactly?"  
  
  
  
"This!" he motioned helplessly to the space that separated him from his wife. A few scant inches that spread an endless emotional distance. "Alice and I have been together for... years." He shook his head. "I look at my own wife and I barely know her, and I know she feels the same way," he sighed.   
  
  
  
"When did you start feeling this way?"  
  
  
  
"I don't remember." He shook his head. Between moving to India,   
  
Alice's unplanned, difficult pregnancy... Henry... Moving back to L.A... Then Sydney's reappearance, the last two years of his life were a sudden blur of pain and loneliness, mixed with a new fervor to shoot up the CIA ladder in what he was sure Barnett would call a misguided attempt to ignore his problems.   
  
  
  
"Do you share your husband's view Mrs. Vaughn?"  
  
  
  
"Sometimes," she agreed in a voice so tiny she was barely heard. "Sometimes I don't think Michael even wants to know me anymore..." She looked hesitantly at him out of the corner of her eye. Then she sighed and looked the doctor directly in the eye. "I know there are days when I don't want to know him anymore."  
  
  
  
"You *do* want to work through this though, don't you?" Judy asked cautiously. If Alice Vaughn entered this without any desire of a successful reconciliation, any work she could hope to do would ultimately be fruitless.  
  
  
  
"Of course... Who doesn't want their marriage to work?"  
  
  
  
"Good," Judy smiled encouragingly. "With all that's happened...   
  
Agent Vaughn's line of work... I don't imagine that's easy for you to deal with."  
  
  
  
"I knew what Michael did when I married him," she soberly reminded the doctor.  
  
  
  
"Sometimes, even when we know what someone does, it's different when we marry them," she gently pointed out.  
  
  
  
"I support Michael's career. If it's what he wants, then it's what I want," Alice replied. The mechanical way in which the words sprang from her mouth left the doctor wondering if it was something she had read somewhere and was forcing herself to believe it.  
  
  
  
"Are you working?"  
  
  
  
"No. Since Henry... I've been taking some time off."  
  
  
  
"Are you interested in getting back to work?"   
  
  
  
"Some days. There are still days when I don't want to get out of bed," Alice apologetically confessed. The doctor made a note and nodded slowly as a loud beeping could be heard throughout the office.  
  
  
  
Sheepishly Vaughn's eyes were drawn to the ringing beeper at his side. The look his wife sent him would have cut through his soul if he were a lesser man, while Judy Barnett looked slightly amused at the interruption. As an agency psychologist, she had to be used to sudden interruptions. Snapping the offensive item off his belt, he smiled apologetically in his wife's direction and read the message.  
  
  
  
Taking Syd to ER. Cover for me. Thanks. - Weiss  
  
  
  
Swallowing hard, he looked up and prayed the fear wasn't obvious in his eyes. Eric was absolutely insane if he thought he'd simply cover for him after leaving that message. Thoughts zoomed through his mind, the least of which being what Sydney was doing with Weiss in the first place. In autopilot Vaughn reattached his beeper to his belt and stood to his feet. "I'm sorry. There's an emergency. I have to go."  
  
  
  
"Now?" Alice's eyes widened, her voice enough to break glass. Luckily, the good doctor had none in her office.  
  
  
  
"Is it essential that you leave now Agent Vaughn?"  
  
  
  
"Yes." He adjusted his coat, hoping Barnett wouldn't press the issue. "I'm sorry Allie." His eyes turned to his infuriated wife. "Reschedule an appointment. I swear I'll make it, no complications," he forced a smile and disappeared out the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There was only one hospital that they'd take Sydney Bristow to, and the hospital the CIA primarily used was a thankfully short drive from the CIA headquarters. Stuck at a traffic light, he made an absent phone call to his secretary, nearly begging her to cover not only for him, but Agent Weiss as well. In the end it was an easy task. His secretary, a marmish but sweet woman who was arguably old enough to be *his* grandmother, adored him. Plus, no one made his coffee quite as well as she did.  
  
  
  
The government issued car came to a stop with a loud screech as he cut it off in the parking lot marked for the hospitals emergency room. The keys were barely out of the ignition by the time he was at the sliding doors. Stepping one foot inside the emergency room, the knowledge that he had no cause to get information slightly deflated him before a familiar voice called him.  
  
  
  
"Mike?"  
  
  
  
Turning around he was assured to see Marcus Dixon and Eric Weiss standing alone in the hospital waiting room. The two men were looking at him in confusion. "I thought you'd cover for me."  
  
  
  
Stepping closer to his friends, his voice dipped, his eyebrows nearly as high up as his eyes were wide. "You tell me you're taking Sydney to the emergency room and you actually expected me to cover for you?!" he struggled not to shout. Glancing around quickly at the half empty vending machine, the coffee machine promising gritty, cold liquid and the soap operas on the mounted television, he looked back at them. "Where the hell is she?"  
  
  
  
"The doctor's seeing her now," Dixon calmly informed him.  
  
  
  
"What the hell happened?"  
  
  
  
"We were coming out of the restaurant and she got hit by a car-"  
  
  
  
"What?"   
  
  
  
"She's fine, thank god," Dixon continued his story. "She landed on the grass, no concussion."  
  
  
  
Weiss spoke up, "I still thought it would be good to have her checked out. She wasn't walking well, and I wanted to be sure there was no internal bleeding."  
  
  
  
"Who knows she's back in town? How did the Alliance -"  
  
  
  
"No," Weiss quickly shook his head. "Nothing like that. We've already checked him out. Some eighteen year old kid who played hooky from school and had too many beers. Absolutely no connection to anyone who has an agenda against Sydney."  
  
  
  
"How can you be positive - " Vaughn started, the panic obvious in his eyes.  
  
  
  
"Jack Bristow's taking care of that himself. He just called us to tell us," Weiss promised.  
  
  
  
Shaking his head, he briefly massaged his temples. "What the hell were you doing anyway?"  
  
  
  
"Celebrating," Weiss shrugged. At Vaughn's confusion, he clarified. "Syd got a job."  
  
  
  
"She's okay?"   
  
  
  
Before the men could once again assure him, all conversation was cut off. "Vaughn?"  
  
  
  
To his relief, Sydney Bristow stood before him. A slight gash was visible along her hairline, and she stood on crutches, but she was no less worse for wear. Closing his eyes for a moment, he cherished what he was certain was the most beautiful sight on earth. "You're okay."  
  
  
  
"What are you doing here?" she questioned, wobbling over on her crutches.  
  
  
  
"Weiss... He paged me. Told me he'd taken you to the ER."  
  
  
  
"I'm fine," she smiled softly. "Shouldn't you be at work?"  
  
  
  
"I had someone cover for me," he assured her. Cocking his head to Weiss, his eyes never leaving hers, he spoke. "Weiss said you got a job."  
  
  
  
"Yeah." Her smile grew. "I'm going to be teaching English in   
  
Claremont."  
  
  
  
"That's great," he smiled in agreement. "That's great Syd."  
  
  
  
"I just can't wait to tell Will and Francie."  
  
  
  
"They should be coming back soon, right?"  
  
  
  
Sydney nodded, neither letting her smile disappear or her eyes leave his. "Saturday," she answered. When her eyes tore from his, confusion briefly danced over her pretty features as she looked imploringly at the two other men. "Where's Marshall?"  
  
  
  
"Kendall threatened to come down here and kill him if he didn't finish whatever gadget he's supposed to present to the director tomorrow," Weiss shrugged. He had more than enough experience with the fear that meeting with the director brought.  
  
  
  
She chuckled and shook her head. "Poor Marshall."  
  
  
  
"Do you need a ride?" he offered.  
  
  
  
"Dixon's going to take me back," she explained. Their eyes locked again as they each nodded, neither quick to break the spell.   
  
  
  
"I'm glad you're okay."  
  
  
  
"It was just an accident," she managed to shrug despite her crutches. "It could have happened to anyone," she calmly reasoned.  
  
  
  
Vaughn nodded, unable to speak. It *could* happen to anyone. But it hadn't. It had happened to his Sydney, and his world had all but stopped. "I should get back to work," he regretfully remembered.  
  
  
  
Breaking the bubble, Weiss couldn't help but ask the obvious question. "What's with the crutches?"  
  
  
  
When the two looked at Dixon and Weiss, a look of momentary surprise spread across both of their faces. With a nearly imperceptible shake her head, she smiled at her former co-workers. "I broke my ankle."  
  
  
  
"That sucks," he muttered as she shrugged.  
  
  
  
"Do you need to pick up anything from the pharmacy?" Dixon patiently asked.  
  
  
  
"No. Tylenol's fine," she assured them. After all she had endured during her time as a spy, Vaughn suspected the pain of breaking an ankle was similar in magnitude to a hangnail. "I should go though. The doctor gave me strict orders to keep this elevated," she smiled back at Vaughn.  
  
  
  
"We should get back to work, before someone notices we're gone and takes away our corner offices," Weiss teased, slapping his friend good-naturedly on the back.  
  
  
  
"I'll be back in a little while," Dixon informed the two men. Nodding, Weiss watched Vaughn as his eyes stayed focused on Sydney as she wobbled out the door, her former partner faithfully by her side.  
  
  
  
"So, how's Alice?" he questioned. Vaughn blinked rapidly before he turned to his friend.   
  
  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
  
  
"When I asked if you wanted to come to lunch, you said you had a meeting with Alice."  
  
  
  
"Yeah," he sighed, running his finger along the underside of his nose. "We were meeting with Barnett."  
  
  
  
"You walked out on a meeting with Barnett?"  
  
"It was an emergency! I had no idea why you of all people would be bringing Sydney to the emergency room."  
  
  
  
"And Alice?"  
  
  
  
"I told her to reschedule," he shrugged. Looking back on his actions he realized that leaving in the middle of the session was probably not the right choice, but as soon as he had read his page, his first and only instinct had been to get to Sydney.  
  
  
  
"The shit's going to hit the fan," he mumbled.  
  
  
  
Irritated, he shot his friend a glare. "Let's just go, before they hang our asses," he decided, silently leading his friend out of the emergency room.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Walking into his apartment early that evening, Michael was temporarily reassured to see all the lights on. Most amazingly of all, his wife was still fully dressed, her make up still detectable as she sat on the sofa reading. "Michael," she softly greeted him, raising her eyes from her book.  
  
  
  
"Allie, I'm so sorry -"  
  
  
  
"I don't want to hear it." She shook her head. Marking her page, she stood and walked over to him. "Tuesday, Michael. During your lunch break. Do you think you could take time out of your busy social schedule to be there the *entire* appointment?"  
  
  
  
"Yeah, of course," he quickly promised. "I'm sorry, I just -"  
  
  
  
"I told you," she stopped him, her voice sharp enough to cut down to his bones. "I don't want to hear your excuses. I've listened to over a year of them, first in India and now here... So just drop it. I'm sick of it, and half the time I don't even think you believe them," she snapped. Shaking her head, she turned away from him, pacing an invisible circle in front of him. Abruptly Alice stopped and looked at him. "This job *has* to stop being your first priority."  
  
  
  
"Allie, it's not -"  
  
  
  
"It *is* Michael! Whatever emergency the CIA came up with was obviously more important than this or else you could have had another agent do it!"  
  
  
  
"I couldn't do that," he whispered, the confidence oozing from his voice.   
  
  
  
"Then we have a problem," she sighed, her head shaking. "Be there on Tuesday, Michael. I don't care if all of Los Angeles is on fire. Put me first for once," she demanded, retreating to the kitchen. Alone in his living room, he sighed and sank onto the aged sofa, wondering how he allowed this to get so complicated.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Saturday night, as Will and Francie were being greeted at LAX by a slightly wobbly Sydney, Alice suggested they go to a movie. Months had literally passed since the last time his wife had suggested they go out, and the offer was one he could not turn down with a clean conscience. The two sat in an air-conditioned theatre for nearly two and half hours, sharing burnt, buttery popcorn and a massive soda. Then they drove back to the apartment, the rain getting heavier as Billy Joel played on the radio, and once that evening he even heard her laugh.  
  
  
  
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. He made them dinner and they watched an old Clark Gable movie on cable. Meanwhile, halfway across town, Sydney was catching up with her friends. The three sat together, going through the pictures taken at the reception and some of the snapshots from the honeymoon. Francie and Will were both alarmed to see her greet them with crutches, and Will was obviously concerned when he heard of how she acquired her injury, but she pulled him aside later in the evening to assure him it was random. Francie was thrilled to hear of Sydney's new job, and badgered her for every little detail, down to whether or not there were any cute men there. At her husband's playful retort, she promised that she was just thinking of Sydney. As the evening progressed they ate Chinese and played cards for a while before Will brought Sydney back to her mother's.  
  
  
  
Determined to make up for his earlier failure, Vaughn found himself leaning against the wall outside Barnett's office nearly half an hour before his wife was due. For a few short days she had shown such progress, leading him to believe that perhaps there was more hope than he'd allowed himself to expect. There had been delicate moments, a few times when he had been certain she was about to sob or scream at him, but Alice had held herself together. Whatever Dr. Barnett had or hadn't said to her had made some impact, and Vaughn was starting to consider altering his blanket opinion of company shrinks.  
  
  
  
Alice arrived on time. The session ran the traditional forty-five minutes. Vaughn and Barnett listened as Alice recounted the weekend with a new optimism in her voice. If he looked closely, he thought he even saw a twinkle in her eye. Maybe this was the fix. For a moment, as he walked her out of the office and into the CIA hallways, he dared to imagine that it could be this simple. A weekly session with Barnett and maybe, just maybe, his marriage could piece itself together again.  
  
  
  
"Hey Mike," Weiss called as they stepped out into the hallway. Looking up, Vaughn's eyes were drawn not to his best friend and partner, but to the woman by his side. While she still relied heavily on her crutches, she looked beautiful. The cut on her forehead had begun to heal, and her ankle looked less swollen in the mesh jogging pants.   
  
  
  
"Hey."  
  
  
  
"Eric," Alice sighed as the two approached.   
  
  
  
"How's it going Alice." He forced a smile and a polite nod in the blonde's direction.   
  
  
  
When she looked over at her husband, understandably expecting an explanation, she felt her stomach drop. Instead of being mindful of the necessary introductions, his eyes were locked with that of the mystery brunette, and the two of them were sharing a similar _expression. A look that wasn't exactly a smile, but wasn't too far from a one either.  
  
  
  
Clearing her voice loudly, her aggravation growing at her husband's flustered behavior, she spoke. "Michael?"  
  
  
  
"Sorry." He shook his head and tossed her a quick smile. "Alice, this is Sydney Bristow. Syd, this is Alice."  
  
  
  
For a moment, Alice watched in crude amusement as the brunette struggled not to grow uncomfortable in her presence. A range of emotions blew over her features, the last of which was her lips piercing together before they unfolded in a bittersweet smile.   
  
  
  
"It's nice to meet you," she spoke. Something about this woman rang familiar, but she supposed it was because she reminded her of the thousands of other similar brunette women she passed on the street everyday.   
  
  
  
"What happened to your foot?" Alice inquired politely.  
  
  
  
"Oh!" Sydney's cheeked burned as she glanced down at her injury. "Car accident. Nothing serious, thankfully."  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," she returned. "When?"  
  
  
  
"Thursday afternoon," she replied.  
  
  
  
At her answer, Alice turned to momentarily look at her husband, his eyes already downcast to the tiled floor of the CIA's less-used hallways. Michael's avoidance of her face was all the answer she needed, adding to the silent, sinking feeling in her stomach. She turned back to Sydney and asked, "Do you work here?"  
  
  
  
"No," she shook her head.  
  
  
  
Unwilling to watch Alice tear apart Sydney, Weiss stepped forward, slightly in front of the injured woman. "Sydney used to work with us. She was just here having lunch with me."  
  
  
  
"Oh," Alice sighed. "I should go," she realized. "I'll see you at home," she tossed at her husband and walked away from the group.   
  
  
  
The three stood in silence, neither able to look at the other. Around them, agents and analysts passed, too consumed in their own work to give much attention to three people standing off to the side. More experienced with composing herself after a similar experience, it was Sydney who finally broke the silence. "I have to go. I really should have this up." She forced a smile, knowing neither man believed its validity.  
  
  
  
Instinctively, Weiss placed a friendly hand on Sydney's elbow, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Vaughn. "Yeah. I'll help you to the car," he agreed. "I'll talk to you later?" he glanced at his nervous friend.   
  
  
  
"Yeah," Vaughn quickly nodded. "Of course," he complied. Turning, his eyes watched the two of them slowly walk down the hall, Weiss' hand slowly guiding her. "Syd," he called out, his voice barely heard by his own ears. Miraculously, she stopped, much to her friend's confusion, and turned to look at him. "If you need anything... You have my number."  
  
  
  
A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I know," she promised. Then her voice grew quiet, her eyes no longer on his as she added, "It goes both ways."  
  
  
  
Finally, she was unable to resist his green orbs any longer, a sigh releasing the tension from her body as she saw his smile, so large that it closely rivalled her own.   
  
  
  
"Thanks Syd," he softly replied. With a slight tilt of her head, she turned back to Weiss and moments later, disappeared around the corner of the CIA building. 


End file.
